#and then it all goes to shit BUT he leaves the sweets in Buck's locker so Buck finds it after stalag and had an /oh/ moment

[shprka]

Buck's only vices are being posessive and needing sweet treats to function

[call-me-aesthetic]

If Twisted Wonderland was an American Public School

WARNING: There are some slight sensitive topics that are featured in here! Reader discretion is advised!

Part 2 can be found here

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts:

- That one preppy girl who takes all honors and AP classes 😑

- Wants everyone to know that he’s becoming a doctor one day for his strict parents or he’ll dishonor the family

- Reminds the teacher about homework, knowing well that he’ll get slander for it

- Complains about how he got a 90 on his test or a B on his report card, a try hard much?

- Wears a cardigan with thicc but cute glasses since he’s one of those people with can’t see shit on the board so he has to move to the front of the class

Ace Trappola:

- The SoundCloud rapper, that’s it

- “Wanna listen to my mixtape? It’s pretty fire, my guy.” 😩🔥

- You will not miss him BLASTING out some song on his Bluetooth speaker, that shit be echoing through the hallways

- Tells you to stop what you’re doing only for him to either sing horribly or do a backflip, thinking that he’s so cool

- Wears a Supreme jacket with AirPods and waves on his head

Deuce Spade:

- Assuming that he’s still a delinquent, he’s that kid with the most fucked up school record

- Not much of a bully but will still talk shit to your face without caring, might even throw stuff at you during a lesson and you would be the one getting in trouble instead of him 🗿

- If he ever gets mad, it would be overdramatic like kicking the desks, punching the lockers, or walking out of the classroom unannounced and everyone would look at each other wondering wtf happened

- Covers the entire desks with drawings of skulls and those “s” if you know what I mean

- Wears Champion hoodies, wants you to know that he’s broke and rich at the same time

Trey Clover:

- The guy that’s not really popular but everyone knows him since he’s in all their classes

- Most people might have a crush on him because he’s REALLY nice 😳👉👈

- Gives off “older brother” vibes based on the way he looks and acts, like offering you a ride home if you beg ask nicely

- Secretly bakes creme brulee but doesn’t want to mess with the flow so he sticks to the status quo

- Wears the school’s hoodie just because he thinks it looks good on him, and the fact that he doesn’t know what else to wear

Cater Diamond:

- Hot Cheetos girl 🥵

- Has a whole buffet of food in his backpack and will not hesitate to eat them during a lesson, no sharing either sorry

- Excuses himself to the bathroom or full on skips class just to film a Tiktok

- Has about 100 followers on Instagram Magicam and brags about how he’s famous

- Wears a Thrasher hoodie with large hoop earrings and his hair in a bun

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar:

- The kid who flunked their freshman year that also sort of vibes with new classmates

- Always gets mistaken as a teacher by people since he looks and sounds old

- Knows the lessons but still fails them anyways, didn’t really give a damn either 🙄

- Captain of every sports club you can think of, never actually plays but has a lot of knowledge on them

- Wears the school’s letterman from years ago since it used to be his brother’s and that he’s too lazy to buy a new one

Ruggie Bucchi:

- That one kid who NEVER has money for the book fair or any other school event

- Always has to ask his classmates for some cash

- If he somehow does, then he’s one of those kids who buys Diary of the Wimpy Kid or the World Record books

- If he’s feeling cheap, he’ll buy the “cool stuff” like the chocolate scented calculator or fruit snacks 😭

- Wears oversized hoodies and basketball shorts that are clearly hand-me-downs

Jack Howl:

- That one athletic kid who’s both scary good and competitive when it comes to school games like football or soccer

- Literally the best player on his team and without him, they’re trash as hell 💀

- Tries his absolute best to support his teammates without yelling at them for how dumb they are

- “KICK THE FUCKING BALL! DO YOUR LEGS EVEN WORK?!”

- Wears the school’s jersey just to show off his “school spirit”

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto:

- The kid who sell snacks for “charity” but everyone knows he’s keeping the money to himself

- If you don’t have cash or try to negotiate with him, the only thing he’ll do is raise the price up

- “What do you mean you don’t have ten bucks? I can see it in your pocket.”

- Just bring nothing with you, he’ll doing anything to steal your stuff 🤭

- Wears a collar shirt with a tie and khakis that have pockets to keep his glasses and money in

Jade Leech:

- The kid who puts on a goody two shoes facade but is actually a stoner

- Only does “safe” drugs like vape but occasionally smokes weed, mostly in the bathroom or behind the school 🌬

- Can play it off and hide the scent when he’s high, teachers never suspect anything from him

- No one really cares to stop him unless he gets caught or something idk

- Wears clothing that either makes him look like a businessman or a junky, there’s nothing in between

Floyd Leech:

- The kid that’s plays basketball or volleyball just because he’s hella tall, and is actually good at the sports but doesn’t put much effort into them

- Always stays behind after gym, even though the teacher tries to make him leave for his next class 😬

- “I swear after this one shot, I’ll go to class.” *He never made that shot*

- Will jump you no matter who or where you are, and will get angry if you step on his new shoes

- Wears the jersey of any famous team with the latest pair of Jordan sneakers

Scarabia

Kalim Al Asim:

- VSCO girl at best, don’t lie to me now 🤡

- The only words he knows are “And I oop– sksksk.” and “Save the turtles.”

- Walks during a track meet while everyone else is running and sweating hard, the teacher doesn’t care either

- Doesn’t really do anything in gym but talks to his classmates and stands near the water fountain to refill his Hydro flask

- Wears tie dye shirts with cute scrunchies

Jamil Viper:

- That one quiet kid who everybody thinks is a serial killer but he’s actually not, I swear

- He just wants school to be over and spend the rest of his summer relaxing 😔

- Although he shouldn’t abuse his “power,” he‘ll move his hands in his pockets or backpack to make it look like he’s about to pull a weapon out.

- “Chill, I’m just grabbing a pencil.” *Everyone in the class started crying*

- Wears dark colored hoodies that intimidates people but are actually comfy

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit:

- The baddie popular girl 😌💅✨

- Arrives to school late with a Starbucks in hand from his local Target

- Fixes himself every 5 seconds like reapplying his lipgloss or spraying Bath and Body Works cherry blossom perfume

- Uses acrylic nails and long hair extensions as weapons during a cat fight

- Wears a crop top with ripped jeans and those clout sunglasses

Rook Hunt:

- That creepy guy in the hallways who tries to get your attention, even if you don’t know him

- Scares people when he says, “Ayo, where my hug at?” 🥶💯

- Uses at least 10 cans of Axe body spray a week after gym class, which stinks up the locker rooms

- Waves at you if he passes your class, even walking into the room just to say hi

- Wears literally anything but always include a hat

Epel Felmier:

- The artist girl who just wants to be alone 🧑‍🎨

- Purposely draws in front of you but pretends like you’re not looking

- If you complement him, he’ll just brush it off and proceeds to diss himself

- “Thanks but I’m not THAT good at drawing, teehee.” *Insert Radio Rebel face*

- Wears a hoodie or a cardigan with big pockets to put his art supplies in

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud:

- I don’t even need to tell you who he is, y’all already know ahaha 🥴

- Sneaks a whole PlayStation in his backpack so he can play with it during lunch

- Is on his phone 24/7 even in class to the point where teachers don’t care anymore

- Tries to get people into anime but only to little success

- Wears a shirt of any anime character or that damn ahegao hoodie, girl bye

Ortho Shroud:

- The nerdy kid who’s known for destroying others at many games

- Plays classics like D&D, Yugioh, Pokémon, the whole shabang

- Daily Beyblade battles during recess with everyone surrounding him, the menacing aura radiates off of him

- Will steal your things if you lose to him but gives it back a week later cuz he’s sweet 🥰

- Wears light up Sketchers shoes and those Minecraft shirts you find at Old Navy

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia:

- The theatre kid who also goes to band practice, change my mind 👁👄👁

- Takes his role seriously when it comes to school plays and concerts, even if he gets casted as a damn tree or doesn’t go solo

- Remembers the songs and their lyrics to any musical you name, a really good singer at that too

- Plays almost every instrument, you definitely know this since you can hear him down the hallways during a test

- Wears a white button up shirt, black pants with fancy dress shoes, and top it all off with a fricking Rolex watch

Lilia Vanrouge:

- The weird guy who pranks people and vandalizes school property in every way possible

- If you ever get a textbook with a message that tells you to go to a certain page only for you to found a picture of a dick, yeah that was him 😒

- When using a Chromebook, he’ll leave a tab open on YouTube so when the next person uses it, pray that your ears will still work by tomorrow

- During lunch, he is a literal DEMON that mixes milk with chicken nuggets together and having the audacity to eat it too

- Wears an oversized raincoat or a windbreaker but idk wtf kind of things he has hiding underneath

Silver:

- That guy in class who consumes Monster energy drinks and falls asleep 99% of the time but somehow manages to pass the class 🤷

- Whenever he’s awake, he’ll talk to the teachers since he’s basically friends with them for some reason

- Writes his name out of boredom on any desk you sit on but in different places, sometimes around the corners or the sides

- Has a sixth sense because he’ll wake up if you try to draw on his face and if you did get something on him, it’s on sight

- Wears those colorful hoodies that zips all the way up to cover his face with a matching backpack, it’s pretty cool ngl

Sebek Zigvolt:

- That kid who literally knows everything about historical wars and will show it off during class

- Also has knowledge on weaponry, which has people questioning him but he’s just very dedicated on serving his country and people

- Knows how to fight and defend himself from a bitch since he spent his summer at a military boot camp, put respect on my man’s name 😤

- Honestly a great partner for a group project, actually does the given work but not the whole thing for you

- Wears anything that has camo pattern and chunky combat boots

I only made this because me and my friends were talking about our school memories so yeah. This is based from my experience so they might not be exactly accurate. Might even be a part two if you want.

[xiaoderys]

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 (𝐥.𝐣𝐧)

pairing: Football Captain!Jeno x Mean Girl/Cheer Captain!Reader

warnings: smut, going into subspace, creampie, overstimulation, praise kink, cum swallowing, overuse of the word ‘baby’

word count: 2.8K

requested: yes

Everybody knows who you are— student body president, homecoming queen, cheerleading captain; you were the school’s it girl and you had everybody wrapped around your tiny little fingers with just a single look in your eye, but while you had everyone falling on their knees for you, Lee Jeno was not having any of your bullshit. Instead, he went out of his way to avoid you and since Jeno was the school’s hotshot, it came as a surprise to everyone that the infamous Mr. Golden Boy and the school’s most precious darling sweetheart hated each other’s guts.

But what people didn’t know was that behind all this facade you and Jeno both put up for the whole school, you were just a sucker for each other’s touch.

You swore to yourself that you would never even dare lay eyes on anyone from the football team, after everything you’ve experienced from Jeno, you just grew an overbearing hatred towards football players in general and much to your cheer squad’s dismay, your rule applied to them as well. Call it being too harsh but you’re the captain and what you say goes so you would always tell your girls: “Guys on the football team are off-limits. You think it’s cute for cheerleaders and football players to date? Then you’d be glad to know that you’re not the first girl they’ve fucked in the locker rooms.. and definitely not the last. If I find any one of you getting too close with one of those assholes, don’t even fucking dare show your face here ever again.” 

But you’re a hypocrite.

After one too many shots of some cheap alcohol and two horny teenagers at the homecoming games after party, you could only imagine what happened next.

Hands around your waist, body on top of his, tongues fighting for dominance; he tasted like beer and regret. You could’ve stopped it, you could’ve ran away, you could’ve told him no before he was shoving his tongue down your throat and fucking you senselessly on his roommates bed.. you could’ve done so many things to stop all of this before it even started but you didn’t. Because Lee Jeno is a drug and unfortunately for you, you just found your new addiction.

After that night, it became a habit, a ritual for the both of you. After every game or practice, you would meet up in the East building locker room and he would rail you until you were too sore to go to cheer practices the next day. Not your proudest moments but it’s just as if there wasn’t enough air in the room to fill your lungs whenever you were with him.

Now, it’s 4pm and you’re kneeled on the floor in between Jeno’s thighs as he guided your head up and down his thick length. You swirled your tongue around the slit, licking all the way from the base to the tip which resulted in unholy words and gutteral moans to leave his mouth. All the praises and lewd sounds escaping his lips were going straight to your core and you were so painfully aroused by now. You wanted to reach one hand down to relieve yourself while getting Jeno off but you know that’s just gonna cost you a mind blowing orgasm from him so you chose not to.

“Fuck, baby, just like that- shit!” head thrown back, fingers laced in your hair, sweat coating his well-defined abs; seeing him like this really makes you forget about all your built up frustrations towards him “Please keep going” his breathy whines sounded so angelic yet sinful at the same time.

He pulls your head up by your hair forcing you to make eye contact with him, lips still wrapped around his swollen cock “God you’re so pretty like this” he smiles “It’s almost as if you were made just for it” his features softened, admiring the sight before him, his adorable baby on her knees, teary-eyed, mascara running down her flushed cheeks, and mouth full of cock, Jeno swore the view alone could make him come right then and there but he had more plans for you.

“That feels so good, baby, keep doing that, fuck!” he groans, encouraging you to take his whole length until it hit the back of your throat. Jeno met each bob of your head with a thrust which had you gagging around him and that only added to his pleasure.

The sight of your swollen red lips wrapped around his thick cock so perfectly was enough to make him go feral so it wasn’t long before Jeno was bucking his hips up into you “Shit, I’m gonna come” he tightened his grip on your hair forcing you to go down on him faster and after a few more pumps, he was climaxing and you being the good girl that you are, swallowed everything he could give you, feeling the thick, hot liquid running down your throat. You licked up and down his length to collect all the cum that you didn’t catch, not letting a single drop go to waste then you stuck your tongue out to show him that you’ve swallowed it all. “Fuck that’s so hot” he growled.

You continued to suck his tip, trying to get as much out of him as possible but he removed you from his cock, pulling you up to straddle his lap “Come here, baby” he smashed your lips together and he could taste himself on you. He thought he actually tasted kinda nice

“You want my dick inside you, pretty girl?” he mumbles against you breathlessly and you try to nod, replying with a tiny ‘yes, please’ and he hovers you above his throbbing dick, spitting on his fingers and bringing them to your pussy so he can prep you because he knows your little cunt needs all the prepping it can get to take his fat cock. “You’re this wet just from sucking dick?”

“Just. Want. You. Inside. Please!” he chuckles at your neediness, fascinated by how he could have the school’s infamous snobby it girl drooling over his cock and all he had to do was whisper sweet nothings into your ear.

“You’re on the pill, right?” you nod at him and he bunched your skirt up to your waist, aligning himself with your heat as he slowly sunk you down on his length. 

No matter how wet you were or how many times Jeno fucked you, you still couldn’t seem to get used to his size, squirming as soon as he entered you. Small whimpers were falling from his lips due to oversensitivity and you could’ve sworn they were the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard in your life.

“S-so big! Feels so good!” Jeno’s a simple guy, feed his ego, tell him how big he is and how good he makes you feel and he’ll give you a good fuck.

He knew your body so well and found your sweet spot right away which had you almost screaming at the top of your lungs, thank god this area was secluded or else, anyone walking by outside would definitely know what the both of you were up to “Right there! ahghh please!” you squealed and he held your waist, thrusting up to meet your heat “Right here?” he asks, giving a particularly hard thrust, hitting your sweet spot over and over again.

“Yes! oh my god!” you threw your head back in daze, leaving Jeno more room to mark his baby’s pretty neck. He sucked purple marks on your skin that would definitely be a pain in the ass to cover up tomorrow but that was the least of your problems right now.

“Please go faster!” you needily whine and to be honest, who was he to decline your request? He tightened his grip on your waist and guided you faster up and down his length.

“Fuck! Come here” he pulled your face closer to him and once again put your lips together. He could tell you were close by the way you were clenching around him and as usual, he was right “G-gonna come, Jen, can I please come?!” you plead against him and you could feel his lips form a smirk “Of course, you can, baby. Come for me” that’s all it took for you to moan uncontrollably and release all your juices around Jeno’s cock.

But you noticed that his movements weren’t getting any slower, in fact, they were getting faster and faster and faster.

You laced your fingers in his hair, gripping them tightly “W-what are you doing?” you whimper “I’m fucking you, baby, what does it look like I’m doing?” he growls “B-but I already came!” you squealed and he pushed your body to lay you down on the bench, hooking your legs around his waist as he hovers above you, face inches away from yours “You don’t mind doing it a few more times for me, right baby?” he stills for a second, waiting for assurance. His features softened and holy fuck, you swore you couldn’t breathe. You shook your head with wide eyes leaving him with a grin “That’s a good pup” he kissed the tip of your nose before he continued to relentlessly pound into you.

His tip repeatedly brushed against your sweet spot, leaving you gasping for air and clinging onto his body like your life depended on it “Jeno..“ you sob, feeling yourself get closer and closer to the edge again.

“Fuck! How are you this pretty?” He brought one of his hands to your face, removing all the strands of hair covering it. Seeing you like this, drove him insane and all he could do was chuckle at your wrecked state “Look at you, all desperate and whiny under me. I wonder how your little cheer squad would react if they find out that their snobby little captain who talks big game about hating football players is just a little whore for me?” you couldn’t even reply to tell him otherwise because you both knew he was right, he was always fucking right and you hated it.

You could feel your next orgasm approaching, you try to warn him yet nothing but incoherent words and cries of his name fell from your mouth “J-jeno plea-hmnngg!” He watched you intently, brows furrowed, mouth agape and tears falling on the sides of your face “What is it, baby? Use your words and tell me what you want” he taunts “I’m so close!” you gripped the back of his head and pulled him closer “Don’t hold back, doll. Show me how good I make you feel.” You felt your walls tighten around him once again and you were cumming for the second time.

You thought he would stop there but it still wasn’t enough for Jeno. He loved seeing your flustered face; your whines and pants were like music to his ears, it would be a shame if he stopped now.

The sweat forming on his forehead was dripping down onto you, his thrusts weren’t letting up and you couldn’t think straight. Your mind was all fuzzy and all you could think about was Jeno.

He had you writhing underneath him, cock still deep inside your sensitive pussy, pounding into you mercilessly even after having come two times already.

Your whole body was shaking, you could only take so much. You let out cries and whines yet it only seemed to inflate Jeno’s ego and drive him to go faster and harder. “J-Jeno! I can’t take it anymore!” you thrashed under him but his big, strong arms held you in place “Yes you can, baby, just one more” He knew your body better than anyone else, he knows when you’ve had enough and he knows you can take more-- he knows you want more. “Just one more, okay?”

He continued to plunge his cock deeper and deeper until you were nothing but a whiny, sobbing mess. The overwhelming pleasure filled your senses. You held onto him tighter as soon as you felt another high approaching. Your mind was all over the place and you felt like you were gonna black out. You dug your nails into his biceps and they were sure to leave marks. “Too much, too much, too much!” you chant like a mantra “Just a little more, baby” he tries to reassure you but you were feeling dizzy at this point and his words almost stopped making sense.

You could feel every vein on his cock grazing your walls so deliciously. Every praise and groans that fell from his lips were the only things you could comprehend. “You’re doing so well, baby.. almost there” Your eyes were now rolling to the back of your head, your body stopped shaking and you were in a state of pure bliss, you felt dizzy and your vision was slowly fading to black “J-jeno…” you mumble “Yes, baby, you’re doing so so good, stay with me, just a little more” All you could think about was Jeno and the overwhelming pleasure from his cock rubbing against your tight walls and right at that exact moment, it felt like nothing in the world mattered but the both of you.

You felt spurts of cum being released inside you and you so almost passed out “Fuck, baby. you feel so good” he was panting and kept thrusting sloppily into you “That felt so damn good, baby” as he was coming down from his high, he noticed that you weren’t responding so he cupped your cheeks “Good job, baby, you took me so well” you were still deep into subspace and Jeno tried to be gentle with you as much as he could “You’re okay, baby. I’m here. Just breathe, okay?” He tucked the messy strands of hair covering your face and gave you a quick peck on the lips.

He pulls out ever so slowly, trying his best not to hurt you. He watched his cum drip out of your cunt and he swore he almost came for the third time “God look at that, my cum’s dripping from your tiny pussy. One of these days, I’m gonna have to buy you a plug so you can keep everything I give you inside” he slowly collected both of your juices mixed together on his fingers and hovered it in front of your lips “Open up, baby” you still couldn’t understand anything and it took you a while to register what was happening but as soon as you did, you opened up your mouth and started sucking on his fingers “Does it taste good?” you nod frantically and kept mumbling incoherent words which made Jeno coo at you.

He took his fingers away from your mouth and you whined “m-more please! more!” Jeno chuckled at how needy you were but he didn’t want to push you way beyond your limits ”You’ve already done enough, baby. You can calm down now, okay? just breathe” a few minutes pass by of Jeno trying to bring you back into reality and you finally calmed down.

He pampered you with kisses and praises, making sure you were okay after coming down from your state of pure ecstasy. “You did so well, baby, I’m so proud of you” he smiles sweetly as he wipes your mascara stained cheeks with his thumb “Thank you, Jen” you murmur, trying not to look him in the eye. “What’s wrong?” he asks, turning your head to face him “Nothing” Jeno could tell something was bothering you but he just shrugs it off because he knows your relationship was strictly physical and you would never open up to him anyway.

“Okay, well, I need to get going now,” he gets off of you “I still need to help Jaemin prepare for the party tonight” you tried to stand up but your legs felt like jelly so you stumbled a little but thankfully, Jeno was there to catch you “Woah, careful there. Do you need help getting home?” Yes, you do, but you weren’t gonna tell him that “No, I’ll be fine” you shook your head with a small smile.

“You’re still coming later, right?” you fixed your clothes and tried to collect your thoughts and you shot him a confused look “Hmm?” he chuckled, clearly your mind was still in shambles from earlier “the party tonight” your body still felt sore but you just couldn’t say no “Oh yeah, of course, how could I miss it?” He smiled at you, throwing his shirt back on “Good, you know where my room is, I’ll see you again at 7?”

You watched as he tried to tidy himself up and collect his belongings, thoughts running around your head, wanting to tell him so badly to stay and just talk for a while, to sort things out between the two of you because god knows you could only contain your emotions for so long, but instead, you just nod at him and smile “I’ll see you at 7” he returns your smile and walks out, leaving you there to mentally curse yourself for not having the courage to tell him how you feel but this is what you signed up for. You made your bed and now you have to lay on it.

[hadtochangemyurlquick]

here’s 7.1k of Toni pining and Shelby and Toni being childhood friends and also far more character analysis of Rachel than I was expecting? also Marcus is real and I made him a gorgeous himbo. it’s based off that poem by @theycallmedizzy and you can find it here. lmk if you want a second chapter from shelby’s perspective, tho i literally just finished this one. like literally ten minute ago.

Mr. Williams finishes reading the poem and looks over his spectacles at the class. Yes, they’re spectacles, those kind of tiny thick ones that make his eyes too big because he’s much too old to be teaching.

It’s eight am on a Tuesday, Toni walked the three miles to school because she missed the bus only to walk into her shitty honors English class and hear the teacher reading a poem aloud to the class. Her poem. She’d sat down after a momentary pause and listened to him read the final damning stanza.

And then he looks at Toni.

He reads her essays right? What if he recognizes her writing voice? Is that a thing? Or maybe her handwriting or—

“Toni, I was just explaining to the class that whoever wrote this should submit it to the state literature festival,” Mr. Williams says, Toni almost sags against her chair. “I was hoping someone would come forward,” He turns back to the class, eyes hovering over Quinn and Monty, two of the more sensitive guys who sit in the back and ruin the curve for everyone. “But I’ll leave it on the board here,” he clacks it on with a magnet and Toni flinches, “and hopefully someone will come forward. Now onto today’s lesson.”

After class Martha goes up to the board and takes a picture of it, her eyes a little starry at the words and Toni grits her teeth.

“You have to admit it’s pretty,” Martha says. “Even you can’t deny that.”

“It’s dumb,” Toni says flatly, crossing her arms.

“Well I’m keeping it anyway, maybe someday someone will write a poem about me,” Martha says.

“How do you know it’s not about you?” Shelby asks coming out of nowhere and uninvited too. Toni glares at her, letting her open disdain shine through like sunshine through clouds after a gully washer.

“No guys notice me,” Martha informs Shelby sadly. “I bet Andrew wrote it for you.”

Shelby purses her lips and looks over the poem, “I doubt it. He’s more of a doer, I think. Besides, I’m sure that guys notice you, you went on a date with that boy Sam last month.”

Martha sighs and before she can launch into what a disaster that date was, Toni tightens her hands around her backpack.

“I’ll see you in science,” She tells Martha and manages to escape Shelby’s eyes burning at the back of her neck.

———

reasons not to kiss her

1.) this sort of love is not allowed. you are both too soft, and the world around you is all knives and chipped teeth

Toni had played about every sport she was allowed to growing up. Basketball was her favorite, but she loved beat it ball, the game she made up with the other kids in the neighborhood. It was basketball but without rules, devolving into fist fights within the first half. Nothing tasted better than her own bloody lip on a hot summer day. Not even the cool glass of lemonade Mrs. Blackburn always had ready when she ran all skinned knees to Martha’s telling her about how she beat guys two years older than her.

She got angry when she had to stop playing, moving to a different neighborhood. Apparently, Mrs. Blackburn had figured out that she wasn’t only getting her split lip from the older kids in the neighborhood.

The new foster parents were a little stricter, a little richer, and signed her up for youth soccer when she complained about how there was nothing to do without beat it ball.

Martha Blackburn would always be her person, but Toni didn’t expect to find her people so young. Dottie killed as goalie, and Becca’s sweetness made her defense all the better. But it was Shelby and Toni who were the dynamic duo. Toni had a never ending amount of energy as a midfielder and Shelby’s precision made her the perfect striker. It worked the same way every game, Becca would kick it to Toni, who got it to Shelby, who scored a goal. It got to the point that Becca didn’t even need to do much and the coach had to pull Toni aside to tell her to pass to the other girls too.

At the end of the season they sat together at the team party, wearing orange slice smiles. With sticky fingers they held hands and Toni kinda wondered how someone’s eyes could be so green.

Toni doesn’t remember why Shelby’s parents were so angry about them holding hands, but she knows Mr. Goodkind talked to her foster parents and Toni was off to a different home, in a different district, and she lost even Martha for a few months.

———

At lunch everyone’s talking about that fucking poem. Martha sent it around to the whole school and Leah is discussing its merits with Rachel and Nora. Even they don’t seem bored with the topic, though Nora is sure Quinn didn’t write it.

“It could be Monty,” Leah says. “I wouldn’t have thought he had an eye for this stuff.”

“I don’t think it’s Monty,” Rachel says. She looks at Nora, “C’mon, you know what I’m talking about, right?”

“What?” Nora asks.

“I mean it smells like Anna Akhmatova had a baby with Adrienne Rich,” Rachel says.

“Who had a baby with who?” Martha asks.

“Please,” Fatin says. “You’re not exactly the world’s leading expert on free form poetry.”

“Uh, I know when something’s written by a girl,” Rachel says. “I bet you fifty bucks some closet case wrote this.”

Everyone looks at Toni. “You caught me,” Toni deadpans.

“Rachel’s right,” Nora says. “A girl definitely wrote this. Toni, do you know anyone?”

Toni glares at her. “I’ll shake the lesbian phone tree and see what comes out.”

“Well, could it be Regan?” Martha asks. “Maybe she wants to—”

“It’s not fucking Regan,” Toni grabs her books and stalks out, kicking a chair randomly strewn around away as she did.

She hears Shelby sit down just as she leaves, “What’s got her madder than a baptized cat?” Shelby asks and Toni rolls her eyes.

———

2.) no one ever taught you how to love. your war paint and scarred hands could never hold her like she deserves

The worst of it was that Shelby was gentle. Her hands were warm and soft around Toni’s callouses, and there was a crinkle between her eyebrows as she focused on Toni’s hands. No, the worst of it was that Shelby didn’t let go of Toni’s hands when she finished, kept holding onto them as she met Toni’s eyes.

“Well?”

Toni swallowed hard, “I’m not gonna apologize.”

Shelby sighed, her thumb traced little circles around Toni’s hands. “I know today ain’t easy for you.” Toni scoffed and looked away. “But you know you were pickin' a fight. Andrew promised to leave you alone.”

Toni ripped her hands away and jumped from the bench of the locker room. “What the fuck do you know? You weren’t fucking there.”

Shelby’s calm only made Toni’s anger redder, “You ain’t denying it.”

“Why the fuck are you dating him? He’s a self-satisfied little asshole who just wants a little trophy girlfriend to—”

“Toni,” Shelby cut her off sharply and got to her feet, meeting Toni’s eyes.

“You’re not denying that either,” Toni spat.

She could’ve screamed at the hypocrisy. She wanted to scream. She wanted to pound her fists against the walls and bleed all over the bandages Shelby wrapped around her knuckles. She wanted to hurt, to make Shelby hurt. She wanted everyone to see and feel how hurt she was, and hurt them with that hurt. Finally level the playing field.

“Andrew is my business,” Shelby said. “Not yours.”

“He becomes my business when you—”

“When I what?” Shelby asked.

Toni looked at her hands, “Never mind.”

Shelby sighed, “Martha’s helping you move in today, right? Shel’ll be there the whole time?”

“Don’t pretend you give a shit.”

“Of course I care. The last time you lived with your mom you didn’t eat for a week.”

“I was five, not fifteen,” Toni said. “And seriously, stop pretending you give a shit.”

She shoulder checked Shelby as she walked out and winced at the sound of Shelby hitting the gym lockers. Her hands still sting where Andrew’s teeth had scrapped them.

———

Regan approaches Toni during science, her eyes serious. Martha straightens, and Toni does her best not to make eye contact.

“It’s not mine,” Regan says.

“Yeah duh,” Toni mutters.

Regan frowns, “I just—I didn’t want you to—”

“You made it perfectly clear what you want,” Toni says.

Regan sighs and leaves and Toni regrets it.

“Shelby thinks it’s Marcus,” Martha tells her. Toni blinks up at her and Martha nods. “She thinks he wrote it for me.”

“Martha, that kid is dumber than a box of rocks,” Toni says.

Martha furrows her brow, “Maybe he has hidden depths.”

“If you think it’s him ask him out,” Toni says.

“Shelby thinks it’s him,” Martha is quick to correct. “But he doesn’t even know who I am.”

Toni rolls her eyes. Marcus had been in love with Martha since the ninth grade. They had gotten placed as lab partners and he literally didn’t take his eyes off her the entire time. Every time there was a dance he would always look like he was about to say something, shoot his shot, when Martha would loudly proclaim she couldn’t wait to go with her friends.

Toni would’ve pulled the guy aside and told him to grow a pair, but a guy who’s not brave enough to go after what he wants wasn’t good enough for her Marty, not by a long shot.

“Rachel still thinks a girl wrote it,” Martha says.

“Maybe Rachel wrote it,” Toni mutters.

Martha’s eyes light up.

———

3.) no one has ever loved you this full surely you would drown in it all

Being a lifeguard was the worst. It was super boring, the pay was shit, and also Toni would probably get someone killed. Like, they pretended she was CPR certified but she absolutely had no idea how to do it. She went to some hour long course, slept through it, took a test that was just: should you kill people? And then they wrote some bullshit on some papers about a three week long set of classes.

But Shelby was tanned and golden looking and on their shifts they’d text back and forth about which kids they were betting on to win sharks and minnows. Tweenage boys in all their adolescent infancy would gaze open mouthed at Shelby and Toni alike but Shelby was the only one who let them down gently. Toni would ruin them for girls forever with something enough to cut through even the thickest skin.

On the fourth of July the pool paid for fireworks and Toni found a blanket and Shelby found her and they sat watching the reflections of the lights together. Shelby rested her head on Toni’s shoulder, all gentle, like she was afraid Toni would spook.

“I know this ain’t much of a holiday for you,” Shelby said. “But thank you for spending it with me.”

She had her hand on the blanket, splayed out like she was waiting for Toni to take it, there in front of everyone. Toni imagined a world in which she did.

———

“Yeah it’s not me,” Rachel says. “I wish I could write that good.”

Which is such bullshit because Toni knows Rachel could say well if she wanted to. Rachel’s weird inferiority complex about Nora pisses off Toni to no end. Nora’s the smart one, Rachel will be the first to say, and Rachel’s the athletic one. But Nora has a six minute mile and Rachel has perfect pitch so Toni hates them both.

“Maybe it’s Dot,” Toni suggests and Rachel, Nora, and Martha snicker.

Out of all of them, Martha’s the best driver, but they always end up in Rachel’s car after school anyway.

“Most of the school seems to think it’s by Andrew,” Nora says. Toni’s fists clench.

“Yeah,” Rachel rolls her eyes, “I’m sure he would love to take the credit. C’mon Toni, you don’t know any lesbians who could’ve written this?”

“You’re a lesbian too,” Toni says. “You don’t know any?”

“I don’t have a life outside of the pool,” Rachel says, “and none of them have picked up a book since Hop on Pop.”

“Regan says it wasn’t her,” Martha cuts in helpfully. “But maybe it’s another kid in theatre. Shelby says—”

“Oh my god,” Toni grits out. “What is everyone’s deal with her anyway? Why is everyone still obsessed with her? She’s just another basic Jesus bitch.”

The car goes quiet and Toni wishes she could melt into her seat cushion.

“I didn’t mean that,” Toni says.

“Except you did,” Martha snaps.

Toni winces.

“What’s your deal with her?” Rachel asks. “You guys were fine last year.”

“Quinn says there’s a poetry club,” Nora says. “Maybe it’s someone there?”

No one takes the bait and they don’t talk the rest of the way.

———

4.) she belongs in a museum, and you are merely here to gaze. look around you, all the signs scream ‘do not touch’

“Shelby?”

Toni grabbed the shoulder of the girl and pulled her away from Marcus. Shelby was bruised lips and ruined make up and Toni took her by the hand. Thank god Martha wasn’t here, thank god Andrew wasn’t here, thank god Marcus looked just as trashed.

“Toni?” Shelby sorta stumbled, her ankle twisting painfully on her heel and Toni steadied her.

Shelby could do a cartwheel in six inch heels.

“I’m gonna get you home, okay?” Toni called over the music.

Shelby didn’t really respond, just leant into Toni as she led her away and outside. The party had spilled into the backyard and front yard some, the cops probably already on their way, but everyone was too fucking hammered to notice them making their way out.

Shelby’s house was only about a twenty minute walk but it was cold and Toni was only wearing her basketball shorts and her mom’s jacket that she promptly put over Shelby’s shoulders.

“Are you still—” Shelby swallowed hard, “You’re still living with your mom?”

“Mostly with Martha,” Toni said.

“Martha’s great,” Shelby said. “She’s so pretty it makes my eyes hurt.”

“One of our finest,” Toni grunted as Shelby nearly fell on her heels again.

“She could be a model,” Shelby told her. “We should get waffle house.”

“Shelbs, we’re nowhere near a waffle house.”

“What was Becca’s order? At waffle house?”

Toni sighed, looping an arm around her. “I dunno.”

“Neither do I,” Shelby said.

“I’m sorry, Shelby,” Toni said.

Shelby shook her head and stopped right there, circling her arms around Toni and pressing her into a hug. Toni closed her eyes, holding her back as tightly as she dared.

“Oh, Shelby, I’m so fucking sorry.”

———

“Day two!” Mr. Williams calls. He taps the poem again, “I will investigate the handwriting if the poet doesn’t come forward by Friday. I know it’s someone in one of my classes.”

His eyes narrow as he takes them all in and his eyes don’t linger on Toni. Not even for a moment.

There’s a part of her that wants to march up to the front of the room and write her name down, make eye contact with everyone who never even considered her before. But no one expects shit from her, and even if he does go over the handwriting he won’t really be able to pin it on her. He might not even bother checking to see if it matches.

Toni tries not to jump when Marcus takes the seat in front of her during quant lit. It’s not like they have assigned seating but everyone sticks to the same seats anyway. Marcus won’t get shit for it though, perks of being the quarterback.

“So, listen,” he scratches the back of his head and Toni rolls her eyes at him. “I know we aren’t really friends but I—um.”

“Marcus,” Toni says.

“I wanna ask Martha out,” Marcus rushes out. “She’s like the nicest, smartest, coolest girl in the school and like her eyes are out of this world radical.” Radical? “And I would take her somewhere nice like Olive Garden. Or Cheesecake Factory? And pay for it, and open all the doors for her, and I’d carry her books to class—”

“On your date? This is happening during school?” Toni asks.

His eyebrows furrow as he tries to connect the dots. Football players.

“Oh no! I meant like, after, if she wants me to,” He says. “Can I?”

“Can you what?”

“Can I ask her out?”

Toni blinks at him. “What?”

“My buddy said if you want to get with a girl you get close to the best friend first, and I figured I’d ask you for your blessing because that’s what they do in old fashioned stuff right?” He bounces up in down in his seat. “Can I? Or like, do you wanna give me your blessing?”

She feels like she’s having an aneurysm.

Listen, Marcus having feelings for Martha is one thing. Everyone on the planet who’s ever met Martha falls a little in love with her. That’s kinda just how she operates. Toni narrowly avoided that pitfall by being lucky enough to know her since she was five, but it was a tough time. But Marcus was never gonna act on it. Marcus can’t—he’s the quarterback.

It’s basic math, Marcus is a six foot five football player with shoulders wide enough to bench press the Subaru Forrester Toni’s legally required to buy when she turns thirty-two. He’s got that all American boy smile that shows of perfectly white teeth, and dark hair that sweeps in front of his eyes. His face looks like it was sculpted out of marble, like literally he looks like some sort of roman god, except if that roman god volunteered at the humane society on the weekends and called his mom Mami.

Martha is a res girl who’s best friend is the dyke with anger issues. And like yeah, she’s stupid pretty, but Marcus has exclusively dated varsity cheerleaders since the seventh grade.

So yeah, even if Marcus may have feelings for Marty, everyone fucking does, and there’s a host of reasons why she doesn’t have a date to every dance and a new guy every week. And most of them are the cliche high school movie hierarchy sort.

“It’s really none of my business, man,” she says.

“Dude, it’s totally your business,” Marcus says. He leans closer, “you two are like sisters right? What do I gotta do to prove I’m not gonna hurt her? I’ll do your math homework for a month, no two months.”

A thought occurs to Toni and it’s a terrible one. But when has that ever stopped her?

“You’re in my honors English class right?”

Marcus’s face screws in, “Uh, yeah. But I don’t think you want me doing your homework in there, I’m like totally failing.”

“I have a better idea.”

———

5.) she touches you like youre fragile, and if you break you wont be able put yourself together again

Dot was asleep which was Toni’s first indication that something was deeply wrong. The second was that Shelby wasn’t. She was definitely trying her darnedest, but Toni could tell she was awake. Awake in her arms.

Toni shifted, just enough to let Shelby know she was awake too. The movie was some horror flick, something dumb and flashy and almost muted it was so quiet. It was the only thing rated R that they could all agree on. Dot’s house was the only place they were allowed to watch anything rated R when they were still thirteen, so it was all they watched there.

She felt Shelby shift up, so her head rested on Toni’s chest, shifted until her lips met Toni’s clavicle.

Toni wondered if she’d die.

Shelby went up instead of down, pressing kisses up the length of Toni’s neck, soft barely there things that made Toni’s breath catch as she watched Dot snore on the couch next to them.

Toni’s hands moved to the inside of Shelby’s thighs and they stared there, tracing delicate patterns that only made Shelby curl closer.

“I think you’re probably the most beautiful girl I ever saw,” Shelby whispered.

“I—”

“I’m not done.”

Toni’s mouth clamped shut.

“I think about you all the time,” Shelby whispered. “Even when I—”

“Shelby,” Toni warned. Shelby pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“You’re right,” Shelby said.

Neither of them slept that night.

———

Toni walks into class three minutes late with Mr. Williams, and takes her seat with a sulk.

“He still won’t let me redo that paper,” Toni mutters to Martha who’s eyes are wide.

“Toni, Marcus just—” She nods her head at the poem where Mr. Williams is studying it too.

“Marcus Gonzales?” Mr. Williams asks.

Marcus gets to his feet.

“You wrote this?”

“Yessir.”

“This poem right here?”

“Yessir.”

Mr. Williams blinks and takes off his spectacles, setting them down on the desk. “We’ll talk after class. I should hope everyone has a copy of—”

“I wrote it for Martha,” Marcus doesn’t sit down and the entire class stares at him.

“—Franny and Zooey and I would like you all to turn to page 52. Begin by annotating—”

“Martha, can I take you out on a date?” Marcus asks.

“—this first section, and on to page 64. Remember what Seymour serves as in—”

Martha blushes hard and glances at Toni who smiles before she looks back at Marcus in all his golden boy 6’5” glory.

“Um, okay,” she mutters out and he grins.

“Cool.” Marcus finally sits and gives Toni a thumbs up. She rolls her eyes.

“—this story and compare that to his roles in the other parts of the work we’ve read.”

“I told you it was for you, girl,” Shelby says on Martha’s other side. “People always have a way of surprising you.”

———

6.) she is all bubblegum skies and chapped stick kisses, and you cannot watch the love run out of another persons eyes

They were all a little bit slap happy by the end of the night. A little bit drunk, a little bit high, and laughing far too hard at one another.

“I’m scared,” Shelby told them, still grinning wider than any pageant smile.

“Girl, you picked dare,” Fatin said.

“I did,” Shelby bit her lip. “But all y’all dared Leah to do was finish the vodka.”

“That was—that was bad vodka,” Leah slurred from her position on Dot’s lap.

“But now we’re out of vodka,” Martha sang. “You picked dare.”

“I’ll go with you,” Toni got to her feet, surprised when they were more steady than she assumed they’d be. “Two chairs right?”

“Alright,” Shelby said. “And you’ll hold my hand?”

“Sure princess,” Toni rolled her eyes.

It was an office supply place, probably. The parking lot had this killer decline, and it was one of those spring nights where nothing could really ruin anything. Not forever.

The rolling chairs were kinda gross, left there but not yet picked up by the garbage men. They had to do a special pickup for that, which costed extra. No one in the office had done it for the weeks the girls had been going there after parties.

“Be careful,” Nora urged.

“Don’t fall,” Rachel suggested.

“Hold on, I’m not recording yet,” Fatin said. “Okay now go.”

They pushed off in their rolling chairs, holding hands, and sped down the decline laughing as they barely managed to hold on and steer at the same time.

Toni went flying as she bumped into a patch of grass and for some reason, Shelby went flying with her, landing on top. Toni grunted, but she wasn’t in pain, not really.

They met eyes.

“Sorry,” Shelby said. She didn’t sound sorry.

“You okay?” Toni asked.

Shelby smiled, this real soft thing, Toni wondered what it’d taste like.

“Fuck yeah bitches! I’m so putting that on snapchat!” Fatin screamed and Shelby pulled away, turning white.

“God if this is you in in freshman year, I’m terrified of you as a senior,” Toni called back.

Shelby’s hand slipped out of her’s and Toni tried very very hard not to overthink it.

———

“So I’ve been thinking,” Leah said. Toni took her gym bag out of her locker, pretty much the only thing she kept in there.

“Oh no.”

“Rachel was right about that poem being written by a girl,” Leah continued. “Which meant Marcus lied. And Marcus would never do that unless someone gave him permission to take credit. And since Marcus lied so he could ask Martha out that means the person who wrote the poem wanted Martha to be happy.”

Toni swallowed hard and tried not to fumble with the lock, stumbling with it.

“Toni,” Leah walked over to her. “You need to face the facts: Shelby’s into you.”

Toni blinked, “What?”

“She wrote that whole poem for you, don’t tell me you don’t see it. It’s about you!”

“She—” Toni stopped and furrowed her brow, finally making eye contact with Leah, “You think she wrote that poem for me?”

Leah nodded, “And she let Marcus take the credit. Listen, I know I’m right. I’ve been thinking about it for ages. Whatever fight the two of you had—you need to get over it. She’s into you, Toni. She’s been into you.”

“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” Toni told her. “Seriously, fuck you Leah and fuck off. This is none of your fucking business.”

“You aren’t denying it,” Leah crowed. “Shelby likes you.”

“No she fucking doesn’t!” Toni spat at her. “She fucking hates me! She didn’t write that poem Marcus did! For Martha!”

Leah’s brow furrowed, “But… but you wanted her to. Didn’t you?”

Toni looked away.

“Shelby’s actually straight, isn’t she?” Leah asked. “Fuck Toni.”

“I’m happy for Martha,” Toni said, and marched away.

———

7.) if you jump, she might catch you, and then youd have to watch as she tumbled through the dark

“What if we ran away?” Shelby asked, which was Toni’s third indication that the punch was spiked.

The first two were her arms wrapped around Toni’s waist, swaying in the soft breeze to the distant music of Junior prom.

“Oh yeah?” Toni asked. “Where’d we go?”

“Peru,” Shelby said. “Or LA, or New York or—” Shelby sort of trailed off, losing her thought halfway through it.

“Our parents,” Toni pointed out. She’d moved in with Martha a few months ago but her mom had taken it as a wakeup call, promising to get her shit back together as soon as she could. Toni couldn’t help but believe her, even if it put her in stasis.

“Right,” Shelby sounded cold, “Our parents.”

“Are things worse with them?” Toni asked.

“No,” Shelby said. “The same, really. They’ve lightened up since—since Becca. Have you heard from your mom?”

“Every week or so,” Toni said. “And if you ever need a break you know—“

“Martha is happy to have me,” Shelby finished.

Toni smiled and pulled away enough to meet Shelby’s eyes, her hands slid from behind Shelby’s neck to either side.

“Did I tell you you look beautiful tonight?” Toni asked.

“You did,” Shelby said.

“Can I say it again?”

“You can.”

“You look beautiful tonight.” Shelby closed her eyes and Toni tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re gonna get out, you know that right?”

Shelby nodded, leaning into Toni’s hand.

Later, Toni will learn that was one of two lies Shelby told that night.

———

Martha gets home at 11:30, exactly when Marcus promised, and Toni smiles as her sister collapses backwards into her bed.

“Toni,” she actually giggles, giggles like a little school girl. “It was amazing.”

“Where’d you go?” Toni asks.

“Olive Garden, I think he was trying to win points with you,” Martha says.

“As he should,” Toni nods.

“He was the perfect gentleman,” Martha swoons. She rolls onto her stomach and looks at Toni and oh god, Toni knows that look. “He did tell me something about you, though.”

“Oh yeah? How I’m better in quant lit than him?” Toni asks.

“He told me you wrote the poem,” she says.

Toni looks away, “Okay, and?”

“You told me you were over Regan,” Martha says.

“It’s complicated,” Toni decides. “And whatever. I wrote it awhile ago anyway.”

“Have you thought about submitting it to that contest Mr. Williams was talking about?” Martha asks.

“Can we go back to talking about your date with Prince Charming?” Toni says. Martha acquiesces, she’s too damn giddy to do anything else.

———

8.) her gaze is too gentle. you will not be the one to tell her that not everything can be fixed with a smile

“Toni,” Dot began, and Toni could tell she was looking at her. “Toni, is Shelby—is she gay?”

Toni snickered, “Dot, Shelby is possibly the biggest straight girl in our school. Maybe our state. She’d sooner give herself a buzzcut than she would ever even kiss a girl."

“Andrew said Shelby got a job as a counselor at this church camp—Guiding Light—in Plano,” Dot said. “I wanted to find the address so I could write to her and it’s a conversion camp.”

The breath left Toni’s body.

“What?”

“And I got to thinking,” Dot said. “About what a mess she was after Becca died this year. Ignoring us, going to all those parties, signing up for a crazy number of pageants. Hell, it was only once you two started talking that she talked to us again.”

“Stop it, Dot.”

“Toni is Shelby gay?”

“Dot,” Toni said.

“Because if she’s gay, if she’s not there as a camp counselor—Toni, did you know about this?”

“Of course not! Jesus!” Toni said. She jumped to her feet and started to pace, “Jesus Christ. Oh my god.”

“Toni is Shelby gay?”

Toni looked at Dot and Dot sighed, her entire body sagging.

“What do we do?” Toni asked.

Dot, her solid, steady, friend since fucking youth soccer was silent.

“Dot, what do we do?”

“Dot, what the fuck do we do?”

———

Shelby finds her before school, Toni smoking like she hasn’t since ninth grade when Bernice gave her a stern lecture about lung cancer. It made Toni cry, actually. Not because it was so stern but because Martha and Toni had been separated for three years and Bernice still cared enough to get angry with her. She promised then and there to stop, and each drag she took now makes her feel like she’s committing treason.

“Smokin’ kills,” Shelby tells her, like they didn’t all go to Dot’s dad’s funeral last year.

Toni takes another drag, just to watch Shelby roll her eyes.

“How’d Martha’s date go last night?” Shelby asks.

Toni glares, “Seriously? You avoid me all year and now you’re asking about Martha’s date?” Shelby looks away. “It went fine. Whatever.”

“I just—I was surprised Marcus wrote that poem is all.”

“You literally said multiple times you thought it was him,” Toni says.

“I know, I know but—”

“Still holding out hope for Andrew?” Toni sneers. “Marcus may not be the sharpest tool in the shed but he cares about Martha. Even a fucking idiot could write a half decent poem if they had someone worth writing about.”

Shelby meets her eyes and Toni’s breath catches.

“Know a lot about poetry, Toni?”

Fuck fuck fuck.

Toni flicks the only half used cigarette away. “I have to go to class,” She says, aware it’s just about the worst thing she can do.

Shelby doesn’t even need the last word, she’s aware she’s already won.  

———

9.) she is so good. she is so good, and you cannot ruin one more good thing

It hadn’t been the first time Toni found her mom overdosed on the couch, but it’d been the most terrifying. Toni had waited in the school parking lot for a pick up for twenty minutes before Shelby had offered her a ride.

When they trooped inside, after having to use the key Tamera kept tucked away in a loose brick, her mom had been passed out on the couch. And the stupid thing had been that Toni had known her mom hadn’t been doing great. Like she’d known Tamera had lost her job, and was close to losing the car, that the pain in her back had been getting worse again from stress. Toni had known that.

But for some stupid, naive reason, Toni had never thought she’d pull this, go back to who she was.

Her tolerance was low, the doctors had told her, because she’d been clean for so long. She hadn’t realized it and had taken more than she could handle.

Shelby had taken the three of them to the hospital, helped carry Toni’s drooling mother into the ER, and held Toni’s hand until the other girls showed up, who she texted to come.

Shelby had been there when the police and social services came to talk to her about going back into foster care. Shelby had never left her side.

Toni couldn’t help but contrast that to the Shelby she saw now. The Shelby who showed up for senior year was barely christian, barely anything, just sort of blank and empty and waiting to grow up so she could have daughters that'd also wait to grow up so that they could have daughters that’d also wait to grow up so that they could have daughters that’d also

Shelby didn’t even look at her, for the first week of senior year she didn’t even look at Toni. She talked with Martha in that faux friendly way, she passed off on lunch invitations to do school work and Toni felt like she was going insane.

Sometimes she would just stare at the back of Shelby’s head in English class, writing whatever gibberish came to mind, and not listening to Mr. Williams at all. Just stare, for forty-five minutes, at a girl who wouldn’t even make eye contact, Toni’s pencil moving rapidly as she barely even glanced at the words her hands produced.

On the last day of the semester Toni finally looked away and came to two realizations:

a. Her mother was never getting better. Not really. b. Toni had written P E R U over forty times in her notebook.

As quietly as she could she tore the page out, and maybe about fifteen pages behind it, filled with similar drivel and recycled them at the end of class.

When the next semester started the seats were changed and something she’d written that she barely remembered was on the board.

Her mother was still in rehab.

———

Toni watches Marcus carry Martha’s backpack to class and watches as Martha giggles at him, argues with him. She is literally so happy it makes Toni’s heart burst.

“Shelby’s quite the matchmaker, huh?” Fatin asks.

Toni looks at her.

“Leah told me,” Fatin explains.

Toni rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, that’s what I said too,” Fatin says. “Leah’s good at noticing things but putting the pieces together is not her strong suit. So I called Dorothy.”

This makes Toni’s shoulders tense and Fatin wraps an arm around them.

“Dorothy didn’t want to talk but what she didn’t say was enough.” Fatin sighs, “I’m all for a little drama but this is cutting into my me time.”

“What going from twenty-four hours a day to twenty-three and a half?” Toni asks.

“God forbid,” Fatin nods sagely. “I didn’t know you could write.”

“I can’t.”

“Clearly not.”

Toni slips out from under her arm, and follows Martha into class. Mr. Williams glares as she comes in and Toni realizes if Marcus came clean to Martha he definitely came clean to Mr. Williams. At least the poem is off the board.

When he passes out papers from a recent essay her’s has a “see me after class” sticker that makes Toni slide down in her seat. Martha doesn’t even notice enough to give her an odd look because she and Shelby are yukking it up about the quarterback.

When everyone files out she hangs back and he looks at her, over his spectacles.

“I’m disappointed,” he says at last.

Toni scoffs.

“You write essays based off spark notes, you never participate, and half the time you don’t even do the homework. But you write this.” He slides the crumpled paper over his desk, her poem shining back at her. “So all I can conclude is that you’re lazy.”

Yeah, obviously.

“Why did you have Marcus tell everyone he wrote it?” Mr. Williams asks.

“So he could ask out Martha.”

“He didn’t need to have written the poem to do that,” Mr. Williams says.

“Can I go?” Toni asks.

“I want to submit this poem to a contest, I want you to start trying in this class, and this,” he hands her a slip of paper with about twenty sets of numbers on it, “is a list of Dickinson poems I want you to read by next week. Pick at least three to write me at least a page about. Single spaced.”

“What?” Toni asks, “You can’t make me do that.”

“I know half the kids in this class write off spark notes, I can easily have them all—including you—fail. So yes, yes I can actually.” He takes off his spectacles and Toni glares at him. “You’re a smart kid, Toni. You’ve got a talent for this.”

Toni shakes her head, “I’m a one hit wonder.”

“You know Britney Spears said the same thing after Baby One More Time.”

“That’s not true,” Toni says.

“Yeah,” Mr. Williams says. “Because she kept working at it.”

And Toni takes the slip of paper with the numbers on it, and marches to her next class and he watches her the whole way, not bothering to put on his stupid spectacles.

———

10.) you will not watch her crumble under the weight of your sins. she is too light, too breathless to be caught up in the dizziness of your heart

Dot didn’t invite them all to the funeral but they came anyway, even Shelby who Toni knew had been waffling back and forth.

Some of his army friends showed up, a doctor or two, and Mateo—the hot nurse Dot steadily ignored. It was a small and quiet service, and the seven of them sat towards the back, holding steady for her.

There was too much on Dot’s shoulders, there always had been, but she didn’t look any freer now that the burden was lifted. She just looked scared, small, and sad.

Toni couldn’t help but wonder if that was what she’d look like, if she got the call about her mom. It was a terribly selfish thought but who could blame her?

Shelby’s hands interlocked with hers, in broad daylight, and stayed there for the entire day. When Toni met her eyes she saw pure terror reflected back at her.

God, were they really only seventeen?

———

Rachel is complaining at lunch about owing Nora five bucks, how she was so sure some closet case wrote the poem but it’s no surprise Nora got it right.

Fatin and Leah don’t contribute and Martha probably wouldn’t have either except she was eating lunch with Marcus, they had found their own little table and were smiling at one another.

“They’re certainly cute together,” Shelby says, glancing back at Martha and Marcus.

“I say it’s weird they have the same name,” Rachel says.

“Says the girl who dated a guy named Raymond,” Nora says.

Rachel throws a straw wrapper at him, “That was a phase and you know it.”

“Marcus is sweet,” Shelby says. “If anyone deserves someone sweet it’s Martha.”

“Don’t you think he’s a little,” Leah trailed off and they all looked at her. “You know a little…”

“Spit it out, Leah,” Rachel says.

“Like the porch lights on but no one’s home?” Leah says.

“Martha is smart enough for the both of them,” Toni says. “And thank god because I was sick of doing his homework in quant lit.”

“That’s literally the easiest math class there is,” Fatin says and Toni shrugs.

“What’s that?” Shelby asks, pointing at the yellow slip sticking out of Toni’s binder.

“Some extra credit stuff, from Williams. Apparently I’m not doing so hot in that class,” Toni says.

Rachel leans way over from the other end of the table. “What is that, Dickinson?”

“It’s a list of numbers,” Shelby says. “Why would it be Dickinson?”

“All of Dickinson’s poems were numbered. It was only after she died that other people named them,” Nora says.

“And Nora said it so you know it’s true,” Rachel smirks.

“Join the fucking club,” Dot says to Toni. “I don’t know why y’all didn’t take non-honors English twelve with me. We just sit around and talk about whatever football game was on the most recently.”

“Well I’ve never liked football so.” Toni gets up, “I’ve gotta talk to my science teacher. I’ll see you guys after school.”

“I’ll go with you,” Shelby smiles and Toni clenches her jaw. “Ms. Roberts said I needed to rework my psych paper.”

“See you guys,” Rachel says and as they leave she’s arguing with Dot about why football is stupid and Toni can feel Fatin’s eyes on her all the way out.

———

reasons to kiss her

1.) she loves you, and her eyes are closed, and didnt your mother ever tell you not to leave a good thing waiting

Toni hated the magnet program kids at her middle school. Like everyone not in their cluster she found them annoying, rich, and privileged as fuck. They only hung out with each other and it was clear they’d never give—

———

“Toni?”

The stair well is empty, it’s the short cut through the language hallway and no one goes there during lunch.

Toni is working hard on ignoring Shelby but is forced to turn around when Shelby stops halfway up.

“Ms. Roberts doesn’t need me to rework my psych paper.”

Toni stares at her.

Shelby takes a step up, one step closer to Toni.

“I had hoped maybe you wrote it for Regan,” Shelby says.

“No such luck,” Toni croaks out.

“That’s a lot of reasons not to kiss someone,” Shelby says. “You’d think if you really shouldn’t kiss someone you’d only need the one.” She takes another step up, until they’re only separated by a few inches.

“I guess,” Toni says.

“Are you really gonna keep me waiting?” Shelby says.

Toni blinks, “You mean you still—”

“I have to do everything myself,” Shelby says.

She kisses her.

[lyssismagical]

dependent and fair

my first ever commission !! Thank you so much @wombatking I hope you enjoy! 

tw for broken bones 

taglist: @littlemissagrafina @spideyspeaches @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @misskirkstark @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester @emo-girl10 @hold-our-destiny @imalivebecauseirondad @spiderman-peterman @dykeragee @maryserrao @heeeyitskay @parknerandirondad @lilacsandlilies4 @loveliestdisappointment @joyful-soul-collector @justme--emily @genderfluid-and-confuzled @fallenstar07 @gyurolls @sdottkrames @you-did-it-sir @not-today-thx {Let me know if you wanna be added or removed}

If there’s anything MJ hates, it’s having to be dependent.

Living with only her father and her three younger siblings, she’s always been a caretaker, not someone to be taken care of. It makes her uncomfortable whenever she’s in a position where she needs help from others.

Her father works ninety percent of the time to singlehandedly afford four children, leaving her to do most of the parental things like cooking and cleaning and helping her siblings with homework.

When she gets together with Peter, they’re definitely a work in progress.

Neither of them know how to accept help, be taken care of, and they both like to take care of others. There’s a lot to learn, but they’re willing to learn together.

As a show that she’s learning to let him take care of her, she lets him take her out to dinner, his treat.

It’s not like either of them really have money to spend on things like dates in New York – neither of them have jobs. Peter’s a full-time superhero and MJ watches her siblings every evening, but May gives Peter twenty bucks, Delmar gives him another ten for cat-sitting, and a grateful civilian gave him fifteen.

Sure, they can only get the cheapest things on the menu at the decently nice Italian restaurant Peter chooses, the salad and the pasta without any add-ons, only water, and a shared dessert.

But they have a wonderful time, and that’s really all that matters.

They have to walk home from the restaurant, no leftover cash to spend on a taxi, but the night is warm with a gentle cool breeze, and Peter wraps his jacket around her shoulders and holds her hand, swinging between them as they walk leisurely through the streets of Queens.

MJ turns down the alley she normally takes on the way home from school, a decent shortcut to cut the trip in half. Peter stops her just as she gets her shoe into the first rung of the tall, black wire fence separating the alley from the street.

“Are you sure this is safe?” he asks. His hand has gone clammy in hers, nose twitching in the telltale way it does whenever his anxiety spikes. She can’t help the small, gentle smile that tugs at her mouth, a smile she normally reserves for only her little sister.

She tries to keep up an impassive, cold expression as much as possible. The idea of showing any vulnerability makes her shudder. But Peter’s always been so open, so genuine with everything he does, it makes MJ more open to trying.

“I take this shortcut twice a day,” she says, it really isn’t a big deal to jump a fence. Especially not when she has a literal superhero at her side. “It’s not a big deal, c’mon, we’re going to miss my curfew if we don’t take a shortcut.”

Peter makes a face, shaking the fence like he’s testing its sturdiness. And then he jumps, casually, easily, right over the fence.

“Show off,” MJ says, starting the slow, human, climb over the fence.

The one thing she didn’t take into consideration, however, is the pair of slightly heeled flats she’s wearing. It’s a little more complicated than her regular pair of old sneakers.

She slips and Peter can’t move fast enough to catch her before she hits the ground, ankle rolling and making an awful crunching sound, cursing under her breath.

Peter, however, does catch her before her legs give out, slowly helping her to the pavement.

“Are you okay? That didn’t sound good. Do you think it’s broken? I should call your dad, or my aunt, or maybe Tony. I should get you to a hospital, right? Are you feeling okay? I-”

“Woah, hold on a second,” she says, cutting off Peter’s rambles before he can devolve into panic when she needs him to level-headed. “Help me up. It’s probably just a rolled ankle.”

He keeps a strong grip on her elbow and waist as he pulls her up off the pavement, but the moment she puts any weight on her bad foot, she’s crumping into his chest, gasping in pain.

“Shit,” she goes like it’s any help at all.

“Let me call your dad,” Peter pleads, lowering her carefully back to the ground. “And then I’ll swing you to the hospital. Even if it’s nothing, I’d feel a lot better if you got it checked regardless.”

She lets out a huff, reluctantly nodding in agreement.

Peter steps a few feet away to call her dad, explaining the situation quickly but efficiently. He promises three times that he’ll get her to the hospital safely, and that he’ll call the moment they have news.

When he turns back to her, he’s already pulling his Spider-Man mask on.

“Up you go,” he says, lifting her into his arms bridal style. “To the hospital we go. Maybe, if we’re lucky, May will be the one to see us.”

“Go slow, okay?” She’s not nervous. She would never admit to anyone that she’s nervous of swinging with Peter. But last time she went, she puked the moment they hit the ground.

“Your wish is my command, princess.”

“Queen,” she corrects half-heartedly, shifting in his grip to make her ankle twinge a little less.

Peter grins, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Of course, my queen.”

She barely remembers the trip to the hospital or the wait to be seen by a nurse, she keeps her head tucked against Peter’s neck, blocks out the pain as best she can.

Before she knows it, she’s seated on the edge of a bed in a hospital room, Peter at her side, hand still in hers, a nurse coming in.

“Didn’t expect to see your name tonight, kiddo,” May says, offering a sweet smile. “Let’s get that ankle checked out.”

X-rays are taken of her ankle, May gets her a cup of water and a few snacks from the vending machine, and she’s told to rest until the imaging is done. When it is, she’s shown the photographs of a clear break in her ankle. Peter looks like he might cry when he finds out she broke a bone on their date, but he doesn’t say anything self-deprecating or guilt-ridden, just squeezes her hand a little tighter and presses his mouth to her shoulder.

May’s the one who wraps her ankle in a cast, gives her plenty of instructions, and then gives her a pair of crutches.

Peter’s hand gets clammier and tighter the longer it takes, and by the end, she’s a little worried she might’ve broken a hand bone too with how much worry is seeping into the grip he has on her. She stays entirely calm, almost careless the whole time, because she knows if she shows pain, Peter will probably fall apart. He’s seen enough hurt, enough breaks, enough injuries in his lifetime, she doesn’t have to add hers to the list of things he blames himself for.

And either way, she doesn’t need his sympathy or his worry. She’ll be fine. She doesn’t need him to look after her.

MJ’s dad is there by the time they’re done, and she doesn’t have to prove anything to anyone. She kisses her boyfriend goodbye and that’s it.

  On Monday, she walks – or well, crutching – into school like nothing is different.

Peter’s waiting for her at her locker, empathetic frown on his face. He lifts his wrist, also bound in bandages.

“We match,” he says, lifting an eyebrow. “Patrolling mishap last night.”

“At least you heal in like two days. I’ve got to keep this on for like six weeks.” She struggles to balance her crutches and open her locker at the same time. Peter watches her carefully but doesn’t move to help her for now. She’s already irritable and he knows what buttons not to press.

She balances her books in her arms and then huffs in irritation when she realizes she won’t be able to carry them all and crutch to class without risking falling.

“Will you at least let me take those?” Peter says, already reaching to stack her books on top of his. “I feel awful. I shouldn’t have let you climb that fence.”

“I don’t need help,” she mutters. She doesn’t want to need Peter’s help. “And don’t coddle me. I made that decision.”

“Then let me carry your books because I’m your boyfriend and I like doing nice things for you.”

She rolls her eyes. “Just this once.”

For the rest of the day, Peter persists on doing nice things for MJ, completely unrelated to her injury, he says, like carrying her books and opening her locker and pulling out chairs for her. She doesn’t say anything, if only because she doesn’t want to make a fool of herself when she struggles to do it on her own.

By the end of the day, she’s beyond grateful for the help Peter’s given her without any expectations of anything in return.

It’s simple how nice it is to be taken care of.

She’s spent her whole life being the caretaker, and now, she’s been gifted somebody who will stop at nothing to take care of her.

She’s not exactly sure how she got so lucky, she doesn’t feel like she’s done a whole lot of good to deserve such wonderful karma, but she’s going to do everything in her power not to lose it that’s for sure.

  They’re lying in Peter’s bed, door open with May’s voice drifting into the room where she’s humming in the kitchen, when she finally voices her thoughts.

“Thank you.” It’s not as elegant as she thought it would be, but it conveys her gratitude just as well, she can’t remember the last time she said those words.

Peter’s arm tightens around her waist, pulling her in without jostling her leg. “You don’t have to thank me for doing the bare minimum.”

“You put up with my stubborn ass, I think that’s more than doing the bare minimum.”

“I just wanted to help, that’s all. I’m sure you would’ve done the same if it were me.”

She pokes his injured wrist. “Except I didn’t.”

“I’m a superhero, Em. I don’t think it works exactly the same.”

And it doesn’t, he’s right.

He’ll help her take her books to class, find a safer shortcut, take her on a redo date, carry her up the stairs so she doesn’t have to try with crutches, help her in anyway she can throughout this.

And she’ll hold him when he wakes up with a cry of misery, nightmares of how he got his own injury plaguing his sleep. She’ll kiss his forehead and promise him that he’s okay, that she’s okay too, that he’s safe and sound with her. She’ll pull him close when the tears cease and hum to him, the same songs May does, until he falls asleep. And she’ll be there every time after the first too.

Relationships might not be equal. She can’t tend for his wounds because he heals at lightning speed, he doesn’t have to soothe any nightmares, she doesn’t need to help him with his family, and he doesn’t need to her worry about her every evening. But it’s fair. She’ll be there for him in any way she can, and he’ll be there for her in anyway he can.

“Thank you,” she repeats nonetheless.

“I love you,” he says.

She smiles, leans into his warmth the same way she’s been leaning into accepting his help. “I love you too.”

[catdadeddie]

The Word Goes Around - 718 Words

A self- indulgent fic/drabble in which Eddie Diaz comes to work pissed off about a conversation at Christopher’s school and accidently petty gossips about the Mom to Buck, Chimney and Hen

It’s all under the cut, because trigger warning for swearing (lots of swearing)

Thanks for reading if you do!

AO3 Link here

“Lisa’s a fucking bitch.” is bitterly spat into the locker room followed by a bag landing with an aggressive thump on the floor making Buck gape and look up in shock from where he’s tying his work boots. All he sees is Eddie standing there with a tight jaw and narrowed eyes. “I was minding my own fucking business when this bitch comes walking up to me. ‘Mr. Diaz’ in her bullshit customer service voice. ‘I see here that you had to back out of helping with the next fundraiser. I’m sorry to hear that - we really needed the help. Are you at least going to make a donation?’”

Buck is sitting there now with his mouth wide open and pure shock running through his veins. Never in his life has he heard Eddie Diaz talk like this. Never in his life has he heard Eddie Diaz gossip. “Like I don’t pay a lot of fucking money to that school. Christopher’s tuition isn’t cheap even with outside aid. It’s not like I wanted to back out of the fucking fundraiser. I feel like shit that I’m not going to be there, but Jefferson is out on injury and I need the extra hours TO PAY FOR THE FUCKING SCHOOL!”

Eddie’s managed to pull on his uniform and is tying his shoes at this point. He leaves the locker room as he continues and Buck scrambles to follow. He grumbles about the cost of the school as they make it to the top of the stairs. When Eddie gets into the kitchen, he starts making a sandwich while moving onto the next topic. “Also, she was happily calling me Eddie when she tried getting me to come to her fucking place last week after drop off. Apparently, her husband was out of town for the week.”

“What’s happening?” Chimney whispers to Buck as he takes the seat next to Chimney at the island. Buck just shakes his head and continues to stare at Eddie, his elbows on the island and his chin resting on his hands. “Just watch,”

“And she wanted me to help with the fundraiser so I could join her little group that tells her how good she is at fucking baking. No one likes you or your fucking cookies, Lisa!” Eddie’s moving around the kitchen as he speaks not realizing that he’s growing a crowd. Hen’s pulled out a bowl and laid out some pretzels and chips for them as they watch in amusement. Buck’s leaning in more and more with every sentence and his grin grows with it.

“She burnt the last batch and she made the driest fucking brownies ever. Yet the bitch has the audacity to say my store bought cookies were sad. AT LEAST THEY WERE EDIBLE.” Hen gives a low whistle that Eddie completely ignores as he takes an angry bite of his sandwich.

“Her husband is such a sweet fucking guy too! I mean, he’s loaded which is why her nose has changed three times since we fucking moved here.” It’s in that moment he looks up and sees three sets of wide and intrigued eyes. 

“Oh, no.” He breathes as his own eyes widen and the anger in him is replaced with fear and embarrassment. 

“I’ve never heard you swear so much.” Chimney says with a smirk as he pops a pretzel in his mouth. Eddie’s head drops onto the island with a groan.

“Eds, I’ve never been more proud of you,” Buck adds while reaching over to pat him on the back. 

“You!” Eddie yells, shooting up to glare at Buck and pointing a finger at him. “This is totally your fault! You gossip all the time and I hear it all the time. I never gossip! You know what, this never happened.”

His eyes scan the trio as he bites out his next sentence. “This never happened. I never said anything. Lisa, who’s Lisa?”

With that, he takes off towards the stairs. There’s a straggled yell and a thud from him almost falling. Hen glances at Buck and then Chimney who are both holding back laughter. She bursts into a cackle that makes Buck and Chimney release their own laughs. Another embarrassed groan is heard from the bay floor that makes them laugh even harder.

[hopesbarnes]

Black Swan (7) 

Summary: Y/N used to be a Russian spy under the code name Black Swan. But that was a lifetime ago. Now she’s a part-time avenger, dance teacher, surrogate sister to Natasha Romanoff, and trainer to new Shield Agents. She’s come a long way from the days of killing targets and being tortured. But when someone from her past comes around will she be able to ignore her history anymore? Or will she end up falling in love with the only man her sister ever loved?

Warnings: SMUT 18+ (If you wish to skip this look for the + to skip over it), curse words 

A/N: Gif below is from the dance ‘Gravity’ from SYTYCD (which is the duet), this is the move I describe later in the chapter!

It’s been a few weeks since you first kissed the super-soldier. The two of you have been sneaking tentative kisses and movie dates as much as possible without anyone knowing. Competition season is closely approaching and you need to finish choreographing all the dances for the girls. You’re mostly done with the group dances, they just need a few tweaks and move changes before they’re finished being put together. But you still need to finish the duet. It was your favorite dance of the season, and you needed to do it justice. 

You’ve been mapping out steps for just over an hour, but it’s hard to know what it will end up looking like without actually doing the moves with a partner. It is a duet after all. So you decide to trust your instinct, and text Bucky. 

Y/N: Hey, need help planning a dance, meet me in the training room?

Bucky: Not sure how much help I’ll be… but sure.

He’s in the doorstep not even five minutes later. It’s still slightly awkward at first every time you see him. Neither of you are exactly good at the whole dating thing, and you never know how to greet him. So you share a weird hug and decide the best thing to do is to just throw him into the dance, and let the dancing do the talking. You just need Bucky to mostly stand in certain places, and occasionally do a step or two, just to see if the steps work. The two of you go through most of the steps and lifts before moving on to the part you’re most concerned about. It’s one specific move, and you don’t know how it will play out. The guy in the dance holds the girl’s leg above her head, her legs forming a vertical line and she leans back. The girl is almost completely held up by the guy and you’re not sure if it will look cool enough to put in the dance. So you set up a camera to film Bucky doing it with you.

You explain the movement to Bucky and mock through it, showing how he needs to hold your leg and the exact position of your body. He seems slightly perplexed but agrees to do it. 

You hit play on the camera, and count out a “5,6,7,8” then start. He grabs your right leg and brings it up to a leg extension. You lean into his other arm and turn your hip and pull your leg down before he grabs the leg and pulls it above your head again. You fall back into his other arm, almost limp. You’re completely in his hands, and something hits you. You trust this man completely and entirely. And not just with this dance move.

He holds the position for a few seconds before putting the leg down and you stand up completely. You go to turn off the camera and watch the video while you fiddle with your hands for a second.

“That was, uhm, yeah,” you mumble nervously after watching the video.

“It looked good, as long as your kids trust each other it will go right,” he says.

“Can we do the end part of it one more time, I want to try to force my leg down a little harder?” you ask putting the camera on the ground. You didn’t need to film it again.

He nods and you put your leg back up and he grabs it. You hold the form again then fling the leg down. It leaves you turned to Bucky, almost flush against him. The air between you is thick and full of tension, and you decide to throw all caution to the wind and kiss him again. 

He seems to have the same idea and you meet in the middle, a mess of passion. It’s nothing like the kisses you shared previously. Those ones were sweet and timid, this one is hot and searing. He deepens the kiss and you claw at his hair pulling him closer to you. The two of you are like animals, and he pulls you up and you wrap your legs around his body moving towards the nearest wall. He pushes you up against it and you feel his entire body mold to yours. You break apart the kiss, only to start another one. The two of you are like magnets, and you need to be near him.

“Y/N!” you hear outside the room and quickly break apart. 

“Shit! Quick pretend you’re helping me choreograph,” you pant breathlessly.      

He quickly moves to boost you up in a lift you were practicing earlier, just in time for Clint to walk in. 

“Hey, Y/N, need some help with -Oh, hi Buck!” Clint says oblivious to what was happening a mere seconds ago.

“Hi, what’s up?” you ask as Bucky places you down. 

“I’ll- uhm, talk to you later?” Clint replies and scurries out of the room. 

When Clint is out of the room Bucky looks at you confused.

“What’d you suppose that’s about?” he asks.

“Probably Natalia,” you say nonchalantly, moving to drink from your water bottle. Your previous makeout session left you completely parched. 

“They’re a thing? She looks like she’d eat him alive!” he babbles and you laugh. 

“Yeah, something like that,” you laugh, knowing if you didn’t think too hard about the past Bucky and Natasha shared. The past he doesn’t remember.

 “How about I meet you in your room in 10 minutes and we pick up where we were,” you wink at him and scurry to the locker room to shower quickly before heading to his room. You knock on his door nervously and he opens it within a few seconds, looking just as nervous as you are. 

“Hi,” is all you can manage to say when you see him. He smiles and returns your ‘hi’ back. You stare at each other for a few seconds before he breaks the silence. 

 “God, you’re gorgeous.” He notes while looking into your eyes and reaching to move your hair out of your face. 

The sky outside his window is turning darker and the tree leaves that remain on the trees are red and orange. It looks like a painting, one you could spend hours studying. Then again, so does Bucky. You decide to be brave and tug his shirt to pull him towards you. 

Your lips meet his and it’s just as dizzying as the kisses prior. He was tentative with his moments, too afraid to do something wrong so you took control. He felt like home, something you’d never felt before him. Sure, you’d kissed other people but it never felt like this. You’re not sure how much time had passed, but you pull back to take a breath and he looks absolutely beautiful. You pull your shirt over your head and take his hand to your chest. 

“Are you sure? I know things are different now. Sam said gals don’t need to be married anymore but still. I don’t want to do this and everyone thinks of you different. I really like you and if you need to we can wait for-” You cut him off mid ramble. 

“Hun, Buck baby, look at me.” He stops talking and looks at you. “I want this, I want you. Nobody will think differently of me. This isn’t my first time.” He lets out a breath you didn’t know he was holding and nods. 

“I like when you call me that.” 

“What? Hun?” 

He nods again, “Makes me feel here, present. Not him anymore, not Солдат (soldier).” you smile at him and this time he leans into you, not afraid anymore.

+

Somehow in the time he meets your lips you've now moved to the bed, and he's above you shirtless. Your bra flung across the room somewhere. 

“I’m surprised you know how to take a bra off.” you laugh breathlessly. 

He smirks, “I may have been a ladies' man in the ‘30s and ‘40s. I think it’s muscle memory now.” 

“You’re like ridiculously fit,” you blurt out feeling his stomach underneath your fingers contract with every breath he takes.

“You’re one to talk, you could take me out with just your thighs.” 

“Yours could take me out in a completely different way,” you flirt, feeling him against you. You don’t know why you waited so long to do this, it felt right. You move to reconnect your lips, needing him against you in more ways than one. He unbuttons your jeans and you quickly move to rid them to wherever your other clothes went. Within seconds the two of you are bare to each other, and he looks in awe. 

“Let me take care of you, baby?” you ask doe-eyed. 

“You sure? You don’t have to,” he asks concerned.

You shake your head smiling, “I want to.” 

He moves off of you to lay and you sit between his legs. You take his hard length in your hand and gently stroke him. He groans at your slight movement and you move your hand again. His blissed-out face gives you the confidence to continue. You lean forward and suck his tip slightly. Looking up at him, you see his eyes pulled shut. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen a sight better than this one.

You hollow your cheeks and move to take him a few inches into your mouth. You continue this for some, before swirling your tongue alongside the bobbing motion. This drives Bucky wild and his moaning fills the air. You’re able to suck more of his cock down, and he goes crazy. His hips jut to meet your mouth and you keep in time with his movements.

A few seconds later he pulls your head back and you look up at him. Your pupils are blown, and lips are swollen red.

“Gonna blow my load, baby girl,” he rasps. “Your mouth feels like heaven,” he says and drops his head back to the bed. 

“Need you in me Bucky,” you beg while grabbing his head to look at you and he lets out a groan.

“Let me get you ready first,” he says and moves to lay over you. His finger circles your opening and gathers your wetness before sinking in. You shiver at the contact and let out a deep moan. He pumps his finger a few times before adding another. He rubs your clit in small circles and you’re practically panting. It’s been far too long since someone treated you this way.

“Bucky, stop teasing. Want you,” you choke out. 

“Condom?” he asks removing his fingers.

“Can’t get pregnant, immune to everything,” you confess and he nods understanding.

He slowly enters you and you groan at the stretch. He’s massive and thankfully he’s taking his time to fully fill you. Once he’s fully buried he lets you adjust for a moment before you nod and pull him into a kiss. He takes this as an okay to move and pulls back before thrusting back in. Every move fills you completely. 

He sets a pace that is just right and you feel like putty in his arms. You let out a moan that seems to cause him to go even harder.

“Baby, fuck. Love being deep in you, so tight,” he growls, “Tell me, baby. Wanna know how it feels for you.”

“So good, Buck. Your cock fills me so well.”

You’re practically panting from his words, and he whispers the dirtiest things in your ear. His words bringing you closer to the edge.

 “Baby, gonna cum. ‘M close.” you purr.

He uses his metal fingers to toy with your clit and the shockwaves of pleasure hit you hard. You feel him pulse inside you before he gives one final thrust and finishes too. Bucky pulls out and the two of you collapse against the bed. After a few moments, he gets up to grab a washcloth to clean you up, before climbing back into bed with you. 

+

“Night baby,” he yawns, pulling you close to him.

“G’night,” you mumble before falling fast asleep feeling completely cherished in his arms.

[thepartyresponsible]

welcome to the all fluff, all the time network. i said here that i was taking prompts, but i neglected to mention that i’m writing all of them as fluff. or as close to fluff as i can manage, anyway.

this one’s for the anon who asked for jason with anyone with the prompt “please don’t do this.”

it’s a standalone piece of a much longer hockey au. endgame is jason, bucky, and frank.

                                                          ---

“Please don’t do this.”

“Oh,” Jason says, “I’m gonna do it.”

“Jason,” Bucky says. He leans over, as close as he can get. He’s pale, a little wide-eyed, bottom lip red from his attempts to bite back the pain. “Come on.”

The trainer doesn’t look up from carefully rotating Bucky’s arm, checking the range of motion, but Jason knows damn well that the little frown on his face is not good news.

They were on Injured Reserve together, him and Bucky. Back when Jason first got traded, when he showed up with – no shit – hundreds of stitches in his throat and exactly zero endearing personality traits. Barnes had been quiet, distracted, kinda lost in his head, but he’d always been so Goddamn nice. From day one, when Jason showed up exactly like some prissy, sullen bastard who’d never been traded, never expected to be traded, never wanted to suit up in anything other than Bats’ black and gold, Barnes had treated him like he was something worth keeping around.

And here they are, five games into Barnes’ big comeback, and Brock fucking Rumlow just took a swipe at Bucky’s freshly-healed arm.

Castle’s out sick, or this would be his responsibility. Hell, if Castle were playing tonight, Rumlow probably would’ve kept his fucking hands to himself.

The Avengers don’t need an enforcer. That’s not Jason’s job. But Jason considers himself a well-rounded player. He can fill in where he’s needed.

“I’m gonna fucking do it, Buck,” Jason says, eyeing his route, sighting his target. “I’m definitely gonna do it.”

“Todd,” Coulson says, tone kinda sharp but not angry like he means it, “we don’t need any theatrics right now.”

“Philly,” Jason says, “Philadelphia. Cream Cheese. All I’ve got is theatrics.”

Coulson sighs and turns his eyes skyward. He keeps Jason on the bench until the Avengers score on the power play, and then he sets him loose. As far as Jason’s concerned, that’s practically a benediction.

Thor heads in for a change, worried eyes pinned on Bucky, and Jason’s over the boards and racing up the ice a full two seconds too early, like too many men is a summation of his recent dating history and not a perfectly fucking legitimate penalty.

Not that his behavior would indicate he gives a good Goddamn about taking penalties right now.

He does – and he hopes Bruce notices this when he watches the tape later, hopes Alfred appreciates the depth of his personal growth – wait to drop his gloves until after Rumlow calls him a pretty boy and a bitch and a coward who lost his balls. He waits, like a professional, until Rumlow’s own gloves hit the ice before he throws a mean, messy uppercut directly to his throat.

Rumlow’s a good fighter. It’s why his fans love him. He floods his Instagram every summer with pictures of himself shirtless and sweating in a boxing ring. Jason shouldn’t know that, probably, but it’s not like he’s ever had a problem compartmentalizing I wanna fuck you and I wanna fuck you up when he needs to.

Rumlow fights like someone who knows how, who learned in a ring with his knuckles taped or behind a school with someone to hold the other kid’s arms back. He knows to go for weak points, mainly. It’s served him well so far.

Jason hasn’t been in a fight since the one that damn near killed him. And he never had any formal boxing lessons, but he grew up doing his best not to get stabbed to death in Gotham’s back alleys, and the result of that practical training is a fighting style Roy Harper once fondly described as honey badger on a life-altering hit of PCP.

Jason’s swallowing blood when it’s over. His knuckles are fucked, and there’s an unfriendly tingling in his gumline that suggests his emergency dentist might be about to earn herself another tropical vacation, but Rumlow’s flat out on the ice, and he’s bloodier than Jason, and that’s all that matters.

Jason goes, easy and compliant, when the linesman pulls him away. Wide-eyed and innocent, who, me? all the way to the bench because maybe it’ll make the officials more lenient. It must work well enough, because they both take five minute majors, but Jason dodges the instigator penalty, saved by Rumlow’s notorious willingness to fight anyone smaller than himself or maybe by the mercy of officials who just watched him slam his stick against Bucky’s arm like he was trying to split firewood.

A five minute major with 4:38 left in the third period. So that’s the end of Jason’s game, then. Worth it.

Bucky isn’t on the bench when Jason gets skates up, but Wilson gives him an approving clap on the shoulder as Jason shuffles toward the tunnel, and it settles Jason enough that he gets all the way through the trainer’s pestering, weathers them checking his teeth and patching his knuckles, and then walks himself to the locker room before his lungs forget how to process oxygen.

“I asked you not to,” Bucky says, long-suffering but still so fucking nice. He wraps his good hand around Jason’s neck and tips him forward. “Breathe.”

“Fucking,” Jason says, as he tries to focus on a sane breathing pattern. “Fuck you, Buck. I wasn’t gonna—we just got you back.”

He feels like his throat is closing up.

It’s the blood in his mouth, he thinks. And the blood he saw on the ice. The crowd, roaring like that. Bloodthirsty.

They’d been thirsty like that in Gotham when he squared off against Bane. Biggest fucking guy in the league, and there was Jason, scrappy and pissed off, fighting Bane because Bruce wouldn’t.

He’d known he was gonna get hurt. He’d been ready for that.

It was an accident, what happened. Bruce didn’t mean it, and Jason’s heard, if you watch the footage, you can see Bane trying to stop it, his giant hands grabbing for Jason as he falls.

Jason’s never watched it. He doesn’t need to see himself catch Bruce’s skate blade with his throat. He lived through it. That was enough.

“I had to, Buck,” Jason says. He’s got his head propped against Bucky’s shoulder, and Bucky, because he’s a nice guy, because he’s a good teammate, is running his hand through Jason’s incredibly disgusting, sweat-soaked hair. “He hit you, and Frank’s not here, and Rogers can’t leave the crease, so--”

“You’re sweet,” Bucky says, which is something no one has ever said to Jason.

“Had to,” Jason repeats. Because it’s not about being sweet. It’s about making sure everyone knows what’ll happen if they hurt his people.

“My arm’s gonna be fine,” Bucky says. “They took some x-rays, just to check. But it’s gonna be fine.”

Jason breathes out, and his lungs remember their function, and he can breathe again. “Good,” he says. He scrubs at his face. His hands barely come away bloody at all.

“Shit,” Bucky says, with a heavy sigh. He takes his hand out of Jason’s hand, slides his fingers carefully along his cheek to his jaw, and then he lifts Jason’s face toward the light. He frowns at the split lip, the forming bruise. “Frank’s gonna kill me.”

“What?” Jason says. He runs his tongue over his lip, and Bucky’s eyes track the movement. There’s a weird, wrung-out feeling twisting in the pit of Jason’s stomach. “I’m the one who didn’t— he just whacked the shit out of your arm, Buck. Right in front of me.”

Bucky smiles at him, crooked and a little rueful. He stares at him for a second longer, and then he pulls back. There is, faint but still audible, the roar of a hometown crowd getting a victory.

Well, they were up 4-1 when Jason went after Rumlow. Whatever Bruce, and Tim, and all of Gotham’s management think, Jason isn’t incapable of growth. He’s getting better. He is learning, finally, to pick his battles.

Maybe all he needed was to get the fuck out of Gotham. And someday he’ll probably even feel alright about being wrenched out of his hometown and discarded like trash down a storm drain.

“You should take a shower,” Bucky tells him. “Put some ice on those hands. The guys’ll wanna buy you drinks.”

After Jason’s second-to-last fight in Gotham, he watched from the penalty box while the other team scored the goal that won them the game. Bruce was so mad that nobody in the locker room spoke a word afterwards. Nobody talked to Jason at all.

After his last fight in Gotham, the Bats traded him while he was still in the hospital.

It’s been a long damn time since anyone bought him drinks after he fought for his team. Since back before Roy was traded. Since way back in the early days, when he was a rising star instead of a letdown and a liability.

“You think so?” Jason says, biting back a smile. “No shit?”

Bucky rolls his eyes. He’s smiling when he does it, so there’s no sting to it at all. “Go get cleaned up,” he says. “No one’s gonna let you in a bar with blood on your face.”

There are bars in Gotham that wouldn’t recognize him any other way. But Jason’s starting to think – with a stupid, flickering hope he’d left for dead years ago – that maybe things will be different now.

[stellarstacey]

Buck gets burned on a call and Eddie takes care of him?

Buck hissed slightly as he pulled off his turnout coat as he got out of the truck. Eddie tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. Buck frowned in confusion before pulling up the hem of his shirt to see his skin blistering above his hip bone. How the hell did that happen? He had his gear on the whole time? He looked at his turnout coat with confusion.

"We need to get that cleaned and bandaged up." Eddie stated and Buck nodded.

He went to put the coat back on it's hook but Eddie shook his head.

"That one is clearly defective. Chim can you get another one from the back, while I take care of his burn?" Eddie asked and Chim nodded grabbing the turnout coat from Buck.

Buck followed Eddie into the locker room.

"Sit." Eddie ordered nodding to the bench.

Buck sat down and watched as Eddie started pulling stuff out of the first aid kit. Buck took the opportunity to pull off his shirt.

"Second degree burn..." Eddie muttered as he started to disinfect it.

Buck bit the inside of his cheek at the stinging pain it caused.

"Do you think it's gonna scar?" Buck asked through clench teeth.

Eddie shrugged. "Probably." Eddie answered and Buck frowned.

"Great..." Buck sighed and Eddie raised an eyebrow.

"With the fucked up Frankenstein leg, the in your face the birthmark and now the charred skin...I'm never gonna get laid..." Buck huffed out and Eddie snorted.

"You can't be serious?" Eddie asked in amusement and Buck pouted at him.

"I'm having a breakdown and you're laughing at me." Buck whined and Eddie rolled his eyes.

"I'm laughing at you because you're being ridiculous. You're a 10 on 10 on a bad day and 14 on 10 on a good one, Buck. Your leg is fine. There barely is even that big of a scar. Your birthmark is beautiful and it showcases your eyes which is one of your best features. Plus no one is going to be looking at the small scar this burn is gonna be leaving because they are going to be too busy staring at your abs, man." Eddie stated as he applied the bandage not noticing how Buck had frozen at his words.

"Did you just call me hot?" Buck asked and Eddie sighed shaking his head.

"That's what you got out of all that?" Eddie asked with a small smile and Buck nodded.

"Yes, Buck. Objectively speaking you're hot." Eddie patted his knee as he got up.

"Objectively meaning that you can recognize an attractive dude or objectively meaning that you would be down to fuck?" Buck asked casually as he pulled his shirt back on.

Eddie rolled his eyes as he packed up the first aid kit.

"You're impossible." Eddie scoffed but Buck crossed his arms.

"You're deflecting." Buck stated smugly.

"Because you're asking me if I ever thought about sleeping with you." Eddie hissed under his breath as he zipped up the first aid kit.

"It's just a question, Eddie." Buck pushed and Eddie ran a hand through his hair.

"That opens a whole can of worms." Eddie shot back.

"Holy shit! You have, haven't you? You've thought about sleeping with me!" Buck smirked in victory as Eddie glanced over to the doorway.

"Keep your voice down, Buck." Eddie chastised but Buck just grinned at him.

"In your little fantasy, am I bottoming or topping?" Buck teased and Eddie shot him a dark look.

"Shut up..." Eddie grumbled and Buck laughed.

"Do you call me Buck? Or do you call me a cute pet name? Wait better question...how big is my dick in your imagination?" Buck playfully started to inch his hands apart in increments.

Eddie threw the first aid kit at him which he caught easily.

"You're a jackass." Eddie shook his head.

"Is it rough or slow? Bet it's rough. Is this a quick fantasy or do you get off to it?" Buck asked as he but the first aid kit down on the bench.

"Do you hear yourself right now?" Eddie asked in frustration as a blush covered his face.

"You're blushing." Buck smirked and Eddie let out a deep guttural sigh of annoyance.

"Fine. It depends. Sometimes I'm topping. Sometimes you're topping. I call you Evan in my head...but that goes for everything not just sex..."

Buck blinked in shock at that little tidbit of information.

"I've seen your dick, man. You ain't shy about changing in front of me so I imagine it the same size. Again it depends...if you pissed me off that day it's rough...if you did sometime sweet with Chris...it's slow. It's never quick and yes, I always get off." Eddie finished leaving Buck speechless and turned on.

"You call me Evan in your head?" Buck bit his lip and Eddie frowned.

"Again...that's all you got out of that?" Eddie asked slightly amused.

"It's just...I always hated how Evan sounds but when you said it..." Buck trailed off blushing.

"Now look who's blushing. Not so confident anymore are you, Evan?" Eddie mused and Buck gulped.

"Call me Evan one more time and I won't be responsible for what I will do to you." Buck warned.

"Evan..." Eddie whispered.

---

"Hey, I got another turnout...whoaaaa! Guys! My eyes! My eyes!" Chim cried out.

Chim always knocked on every door jamb before entering a room after that day.

[immortalitylostandfound]

Invite

For @ummmm-no-thanks​ and the koalas, my second Harringrove for Australia fic. Thanks for letting me write for you! Hope you enjoy!

~*~

Billy’s tripped Harrington up one too many times on the court, apparently. The elbow in the gut out of nowhere is what clues him in.

And Harrington’s grabbing out at Billy’s arm with one splayed slipping hand; has got a fistful of Billy’s sweat-damp hair in the other and he’s taking Billy down with him as he tumbles to the floor.

Which is bullshit.

Billy’d barely even pushed the guy. Fucker never plants his feet.

But it’s fine. It’s great. Because Stevie-boy rolls up to his knees and does something fucking fantastic next. He carries that momentum from the floor into a punch. And the punch is nothing. The punch gets Harrington nothing but this triumphant grin that Billy can’t contain—and the look of confusion on the guy’s face is—just this big ol’ toothy grin, and the fire in Billy’s jaw is about beautiful.

Because finally, finally, Billy’s got King Steve’s attention.

Been leaving the guy be (more or less) for over a week now. Been quiet like Max had demanded, his family jewels on the line. Just watching her. Her stupid geeked-out friends. Watching Harrington.

Wondering what the hell they’re up to.

Now, without even trying, there’s this anger. This formal invitation to get up in Pretty-Boy’s shit. This punch. This dialogue started between them.

They run laps together after practice. Silent. Alone. Coach apparently fed up with their bullshit and leaving them to it. That’s why they’re the only two amigos left in the showers—in the locker room—in the whole goddamn school for all Billy knows, now. Why there’re no other assholes around to make being naked and sudsy in a room together socially acceptable. And Billy has nothing to stare at but all the fading bruises he’d given Stevie-boy last time they’d danced. Nothing to see here but Harrington. Not that Billy’s looking—shit.

“The fuck were you all doing that night, anyway?” he asks—and Harrington knows which night—because it forces Billy to watch Harrington’s face for an answer, except then there’s those goddamn pink—

Water cascades over Harrington’s face, rinsing away his rich-boy sweet shampoo foam. And those dark eyes open. Look too hard at Billy who’s just standing there—Jesus—who grabs a bar of soap to occupy his hands.

“It’s none of your business, Man,” Steve says. “Leave it.”

To which Billy pitches the bar of soap off into a corner. Crowds up on Harrington. None of his business. Tch.

“None of my—the hell it isn’t! That’s my sister you’re—” Not his sister, though, right?

Fuck.

Shoves Harrington out of the shower stream instead of continuing with the talking. Screw the talking. And little icebergs of suds run down the guy’s body as he regains his balance and Billy pointedly doesn’t follow them with his eyes.

Fuck.

He closes on Harrington again. Only now, there’s this mean light in Harrington’s eyes like the guy’s had it up to here and the Pretty boy’s closing the distance to match him.

Their fists meet in the middle. First Harrington’s—oh and that shit’s cute—then Billy’s hard retaliation. And Harrington stumbles back. Slips on the tile. He doesn’t fall, though. Charges Billy instead.

Soon enough they’ve knocked themselves to the floor and are grappling. Elbowing. Rolling and bucking, punching and kneeing and sliding, bare skin slipping across the floor and cut up by the stupid fucking tiles. Tumbling through cold puddles. Scraped raw. And Harrington’s on top of him now, holding Billy down—how the fuck had that happened? Big brown eyes stare down, bright. That flushed victorious face and those pink fucking fuck-me lips are way too close to Billy’s mouth and Billy can’t move. Can’t get away. And he needs to. Like now. Like yesterday.

So he leans up and catches the stupid fucker’s mouth with his mouth—soft lips God God shit. Pushes hard when the idiot inevitably jumps back. Manages to get out from under the guy. Get up to his feet.

And screw showering, you know what? He’s done here.

He hides his softening erection.

Billy punches a dent in his locker and leaves his fist there, leaning in, hanging his head, pressing his raw knuckles deeper to let the pain of it ground him. He tries to get his chest to quit fucking heaving. Lets out a shaky long breath.

“You won’t believe me,” Harrington says, quiet voice from the shower room doorway. Billy looks. Stands. Lowers his stinging fist.

“Try me.”

Billy can believe a lot. In this whole goddamn world there’s nothing that’s what it seems—he knows that much.

He leans back into the locker, cradling his hand. Closes his eyes. For the moment, doesn’t give a shit that he’s naked. That Harrington’s naked. That they’re both here naked together.

And by the time he opens them, Harrington’s too close. Again. Like the fucker knows what it does to Billy and is trying to—

“This came off when we were— Just— Here, okay?”

Guy’s way too close, arms circling Billy’s neck, and Billy feels cold metal settle onto his chest. Looks down. And when he does, their foreheads are almost touching—guy really needs to back off. Billy swallows.

“I think I fixed the clasp thing,” Harrington says, and Billy can feel breath puffing his shoulder when he says it.

Billy closes his eyes and turns his face away. Reaches up to his chest. Feels the medal his mom had— Feels it back where it belongs. Feels the warm circle of Harrington’s arms break and fall to the guy’s sides, one palm skipping over Billy’s chest on the way down and Billy stifles a gasp. Opens his eyes on the disgusting orange walls. Thinks of repetitive chores and algebra. Anything. And his dick behaves.

“The fuck are you so nice for?” he asks, because it bothers him. It’s always bothered him. “I don’t get it. The way Tommy talks—”

“Tommy’s a prick,” Harrington says, quick, and he’s still not backing off. What the hell, Harrington? Back off.

But Billy can’t argue with the sentiment. Puffs a not-quite laugh.

“I dunno,” Harrington goes on, still right there. “Guess I just needed a change—people change.”

Billy puts a hand on Harrington’s chest and it’s a little too long before he can make himself push the guy away.

“No.” Billy shakes his head once. “They fucking don’t.”

He turns. Opens his locker loud enough to end the conversation. Needs to separate himself from Harrington with some goddamn clothes already. Can feel the guy milling around behind him. And why hasn’t the bastard mentioned the kiss? Billy’s ready to lie his ass off about that kiss. The fuck kind of game’s Harrington playing, not mentioning it?

“I’m starving,” the guy says instead, startling Billy out of a patch of unbroken silence. Both of them are dressed and Harrington’s locker closes with a click.

“Tell you what,” he says, hands on his hips and hair somehow fucking perfect already when Billy turns to look. “Fuck the government. Come get a burger with me and I’ll tell you all about what’s really been going on in Hawkins so you can prove me right by laughing in my face when you don’t believe me like I said you wouldn’t.”

Billy considers. He is hungry.

“You buyin, Princess?”

Harrington smiles. Pats the wallet in his fat pocket. Fucker.

“Fine,” Billy says. Slams his locker shut.

Harrington chuckles. Turns to go. Looks back with a wicked grin.

“Promise to be nice and I might even share my malt with you.”

Billy freezes a beat, fist clenched. Thinks of repetitive chores. Of algebra. When Harrington turns and starts walking away, he follows.

But God, does he hate the guy.

God.

~*~

Still have 3800 words left to bid on, but let’s call it an even 4k. Hit up my Harringrove for Australia post and I’ll write you some real pretty shit. Honest.

[brightly-painted-canvas]

for the series ‘fic I think about all the time but I’ll never be able write’, I’m honoured to present you:

Band of Brothers’s High School Football (and I mean soccer!) Team AU

featuring:

- the team’s name is Currahee Easy of Toccoa High School (I don’t make the rules... I mean yes I do, but you know...) and they’re basically shit at playing football/soccer - it’s not that they don’t have good individual players or don’t train hard enough, it’s that their coach, PE teacher Sobel, doesn’t know shit about tactics and theory and he’s just too much of a dick to admit it - so the team trains hard everyday under every weather condition, but they still suck in championship games - (it’s by then a well known thing in Toccoa High School) - except this year is senior year for a big chunk of the team and most of them really really want to win at least one game before parting ways and going to college - so some of them basically mutiny against Sobel and go beg Principal Sink for a new coach - (he’s easily convinced after he sees the disgraceful row of defeats the team managed to string in the past three years) (it’s disgusting) - he calls in his office the other PE teacher, Richard Winters (who’s in fact already the coach of the baseball team) and gives Winters the responsibility of coaching the football team as well - thing is: right until that moment Dick Winters knows nothing about football, but he’s not a bitch about it so he buys a lot of books and watches a lot of youtube videos and drags his best-friend-and-maybe-also-more Lewis Nixon (history teacher at Toccoa) to a bunch of games to study - he’s a good student because when he meets the team for the first time and they try some of the tactics out, they seem to work - (he goes with basic 4-4-2 formation but his full backs are fast and both his side midfielders can shift to the attack on the occasion) - so the championship starts and the boys are for once both physically and tactically ready (mentally not so much, but hey can you blame a rowdy team of 20 teenagers?)

- so the team is composed like this: - D. Hoobler as the keeper (2nd keeper: D. Webster, although everyone is secretly glad he never plays because last time he did he was reading books during the game when the ball was on the other side of the field... at least on the bench he can read as much as he wants and pretend to be too precious and literate to play sports) - “Buck” Compton and “Bull” Randleman as center backs (reserves: “Tab” Talbert and “Pat” Christenson) - “Babe” Heffron and Frank Perconte as full backs (reserves: “Popeye” Wynn and A. Blithe) - center midfielders: Joe Liebgott and Johnny Martin (reserve: D. Malarkey) - side midfielders: “Shifty” Powers and “Skip” Muck (reserve: A. Penkala) - forwards: Bill Guarnere and Joe Toye (reserves: “Chuck” Grant and P. O’Keefe) - coach: R. Winters; coach’s alcoholic husband: L. Nixon; 2nd coach: C. Lipton; manager: H. Welsh; assistant and medic: “Doc” Roe; referee: R. Speirs - (everyone is scared of the local referee as there are numerous rumors circulating about him, like the one that says he once stabbed a protesting player in the eye with the red card) - Toccoa also has a student radio broadcast and the designated sportcaster is George Luz, so he also follows the team in away games (and having him around helps with the team’s morale) - the first match is a draw, which is neither a good or a bad thing, but Winters is still kinda proud of the guys and buys ice cream for all of them and says inspirational things like “the best is yet to come” - the second match is a whole struggle against the defending champions of the previous year, which makes the opposite team’s players a bit too arrogant and which causes yellow cards to fly around - to the surprise of absolutely nobody Liebgott is the first to get a red card and gets sent out. To the surprise of everybody except his teammates, he’s double booked because he picks a fight not with the opposite team but with his own (specifically: Guarnere asking for more forward passes and Webster, still on the bench, for seemingly no reason at all). Luz announces that it’s probably the first time in the history of football that this happens (yay for a new embarrassing record for Currahee Easy!) - Easy loses in the last minutes after a struggle to maintain the 0 - 0 and Lipton has to intervene before the whole team riots against the referee (not Speirs this time) who also gives a penalty to the opposite team in recovery time. It ends 2 - 0 for the defenders and in the brawl that follows the three final whistles Heffron loses a shoe, Toye gets a bloody nose and Liebgott sneaks out from the locker room just to throw a few punches - they win the third match. The opposite team never shows up at Toccoa High School so it’s a forfeit win - (rumors say the opponents didn’t want to attend not because they were scared of Easy, but because they were scared of Speirs, the designated referee for the game) - after the sixth match they start to win for their own merits and everyone is ecstatic. The whole school gets involved (all thanks to Luz’s enthusiastic commentaries and sport-related news) and there’s suddenly an high attendance of audience at their games - some of them even gets fans, like some guy starting to admire Guarnere’s technique and some girl suddenly making banners for Christenson or even Webster (though that must be less for athletic merits and more for aesthetic reasons, much to all the other player’s displeasure)(and Liebgott’s absolute rage, though no one gets exactly why)(c’mon guys...) - they manage to end the championship at an average position in the chart and with enough points to access a row of head to head games - the last match of the season is one of those direct clashes and becomes very important not only because it’s the last match ever for the senior students, but also because winning would mean getting an access to summer play-off - everyone is super nervous - coach Winters makes another one of his nice motivational speeches which leaves almost everyone near-tears (even the tough ones)(and especially Lew, who still gets free access to the locker room despite not being directly involved with the team) - things turn bad real soon real fast because during the first half within minutes both Guarnere and Toye get a leg injury and need to be substituted by Grant and, to the whole team’s horror and desperation, sweet innocent O’Keefe - Doc Roe gets helped by Lip and Welsh to get Bill and Joe out of the pitch and most of all to placate their rage and frustration (my poor boys...) - despite the injuries and early substitutions, Shifty manages to score an outside the box stunning volley for the 1 - 0 that makes everyone in the audience literally freaks out - the opponents equalize right at the end of first half with a goal following a contested free kick right outside Easy’s penalty area - the second half ends on a draw despite the team’s best efforts in maintaining their shape and positions as well as their nerves (and everyone is extremely proud of them, but most of all surprised by Liebgott)(considering he’s not even being supervised by Martin, who had been substituted by Malark at some point) - after the first extra time Dick is already thinking about the penalties: to the sudden shock of everyone present at the game (and the delight of his hardcore fangirls), Hoob gets substituted with Webster - (all of Easy, as one man, think they’re doomed) - the penalties are a matter of even more nerves and sweat and tears, but the five kickers get chosen (Grant, Buck, Skip, Heffron and Shifty) and after that, everything is in their preferred foot (and in Web’s hands) - Web saves the first penalty and the whole school gasps in disbelief - (while Dick and Lip share a knowing smile on the bench) - Grant scores, Buck scores, Skip’s shot unfortunately gets saved and they’re back to equality - no one speaks (Luz included!), no one even blinks - Babe manages to score a stunning lob penalty that has the whole field freaking out again - (Bill from the bench points at him and screams: ‘That’s my boy!’ jumping on his uninjured leg) - Shifty scores with cynical precision (and Winters almost sobs out loud) - as Webster takes his position between the posts, silence falls again all around the pitch and tension is so thick it feels like it could be cut with a knife - right before the opponents fifth kicker positions the ball on the penalty spot, everyone takes a deep breath and holds it for seemingly endless minutes - Webster saves - everyone screams - chaos is everywhere - Lieb kisses Web on the mouth - someone cries - (probably Web’s fangirls) - (and also mama!Lip since he’s so proud of his boys) - after that everything is a blur of celebrations and tears and hugs and also other less celebrated kisses (but Babe gets one from Doc and Dick gets several ones from Lew and, to be fair, no one is really that surprised) - Luz loses his voice at some point and completely forgets being on air on the school’s radio as he runs down to the field to celebrate with the team (which results in long minutes of radio silence he’d be scolded for the next day)(and, for what is worth, he does not give a single fuck) - Easy chases coach Winters across the field and lift him in the air to celebrate, then they do the same for Lip and Welsh and (surprisingly?) Nixon - (Doc Roe refuses and hides behind Babe and Bill and everyone loves him too much to force him anyway) - more chaos ensues and rumors say the celebrations went on for weeks - (also some rumors say referee Speirs took part to the celebrations as 2nd coach Lipton’s date, but no one present ever confirmed or denied that) ...and that’s basically it. Sorry for any mistake: I typed this all in one go and my football terminology is strictly Italian-based (just as much as my football enthusiasm lol) so I may have got something wrong. Thanks a bunch to my sister @gaiayukari85 for having helped with the plot (as often happens when we create silly stories)

[itsanerdlife]

Chasing The Dream 7/10

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader (High School/College AU)

Warning: Angst. Underage drinking. Jealousy. Language. Heartbreak and arguing.

A/N: This is the series, the prequel of Chasing Dreams One Shot. They do overlap so if you need to read it I can link it when time comes.

Your father always warned you about musicians. They’re never good news, but Peter Parker is everything you could want. The other half to your groupie, rocker baby soul. Peter and the guys have big dreams to be rock stars, you couldn’t be a bigger fan of theirs. But your dad’s got a different path for your future, one that doesn’t include Peter and his band. But can Fame and dreams coming true really keep the two of you apart? Is this just a high school love? Or will you make it through the struggle of chasing your dreams?

Tag List Is Open!!

High School –

Y/N (Cold, Sweet Reality)

You shove the books into the open locker, when someone calls your name. You look up Peter and Steve are running at you, dodging students.

“Guess?!” Peter is waving something. You laugh, shutting the locker. Senior year had started, and the band had started to take off. Peter and Steve reach you, both talking at once, you wave your hands laughing.

“One at a time boys.” You laugh.

“They want us to come in a do a demo!” They shout together.

“What?” You blink at them.

“Stark Productions wants to meet with us!” Peter waves the paper at you. You take it scanning it over, you press your lips together, at the bottom of the page you knew the name, the signature. You grin up at them happy for them.

“You’re going to blow them away.” You throw your arms around Peter’s neck, he scoops you up crushing you to his chest.

-----

You storm through the front door of the house, you throw your school bag down, before you burst into the living room where your parents are sitting.

“How could you?!” You shout.

“Punk.” Your father sighs.

“You brought Uncle Tony into this?! Are you trying to rip their dream out from under them!?” You yell. “Why are you so cruel daddy?!” Your voice filling the living room.

“Your uncle actually liked the songs, saw a few videos on your social media. I just passed along their names.” Your father sighs.

“Bullshit daddy! You want him gone. You know Uncle Tony won’t wait till they graduate! He’ll be gone, and you’ll get your precious little girl back!” You shake your head, knowing his hand in this was for his own gain.

“You knew if the boys got an opportunity they would be gone. You can’t have it both ways.” He stares at you.

“I can if I go with.” You challenge him.

“You go with and their chance goes out the window. That’s the deal I made Tony.” The truth comes to light.

“Phil.” Your mom looks surprised.

“I hate you.” You shake your head, the tears streaming down your face.

“Y/N!” Your father yells after you as you leave the room.

“It was okay for mom to be a groupie, but not for me?” You turn on your father who followed you. “She didn’t go to college, but I have too? What if I don’t want more, daddy?! What if I just want what you and mom have?” You shake your head.

“You’re going to go to school.” He replies slowly and calm.

“Leave and don’t come back daddy. I will never speak to you again.” You turn walking out of the house again.

--------

Peter (Signing a Deal with the Devil)

She cried till she fell asleep after yelling and cursing her father, her uncle, the demo deal. The deal her father made with her uncle Tony including keeping her from going with them. He texted the guys in their band group chat, while she slept silently on his chest, buried under all the blankets he had on his bed. The guys took the news about how he did, shocked, floored, and most of all pissed off. They agreed on a band meeting, if he could slip out without waking Y/N.

“What the hell does this mean?” Buck paces the garage they practice in.

“Means her dad wants us as far apart as he can get us.” Peter drops his head into his hands, sitting on the crate.

“We could get in with another producing company.” Sam tries.

“Stark would have us ruined for turning down a deal from him.” Steve points out. “Besides you don’t think her dad has ties to other producers?” Steve drops back into the couch, with a groan.

“Isn’t her mom a groupie? Is that how they met?” Buck stops moving looking over at him.

“Yeah, met in some hole in the wall before the band took off.” He shrugs, sighing.

“So why the fuck is it so bad she’s with a guy in a band when they were the exact same way?” Sam asks.

“Because of the scandal.” Her voice is soft and she’s standing in the door of the garage in his sweatpants and sweatshirt. “Everything is media now days, social, news. Back in the day it was just word of mouth, so my dad never had to worry about my mom getting hurt. Now the reason she tours with them is because of the scandal, another woman claiming to be pregnant by my dad.” She shrugs, shuffling into the garage.

“Holy shit.” Steve blinks at her.

“It was everywhere, my mom didn’t leave the house for weeks.” She sits down on the couch. “My dad doesn’t want the same thing for me. Specially now days, one tweet and a little white lie can be the front page of the news and all anyone is talking about. A misleading photo and my embarrassment would be everyone’s excitement.” She chews her bottom lip.

“You never told me that.” Peter gets up and moves to sit with her.

“Cause I knew it would put a gap between us. You’d want to protect me, and I didn’t want anymore hanging over us. Reality was enough waiting for us at the end of senior year.” She curls up to him, her head on his chest.

“We still have the rest of senior year.” He kisses the top of her head.

“Tony will have you tested out or get your GED’s. You’ll be on the road and creating an album before winter break.” She replies in a small voice.

“Fuck.” Buck looks like he might be sick.

“Alright boys.” Sam looks around. “Let’s duke it out.” He nods.

“Steve could do it!” Peter yells, pointing at Steve. Wanda and Nat sat on the couch with Y/N, each one looking as miserable as the next.

“I don’t write this shit Parker!” Steve yells back. “We wouldn’t have music if you didn’t write it!” He points at Peter.

“Cause everyone writes their own music?!” Peter yells back.

“This was your fucking dream!” Buck jumps in.

“Oh yeah I twisted all your fucking arms into this shit!” Peter scuffs.

“You had to go and fall for the girl with the famous fucking dad!” Steve yells. “We wouldn’t be fighting like this if you just kept your dick to yourself!” Steve points his finger at Peter.

“Don’t fucking put this on her!” Peter steps forward yelling back.

“Yoko!” Steve yells.

“WHOA!” Buck turns on his friend, everyone looks at Steve shocked.

“Too far man.” Sam shakes his head.

“Y/N!” Nat calls. The four of them turn just in time to see her running down the drive into the night.

“Good fucking job.” Buck shakes his head.

“You’re a fuck.” Peter points at Steve, before running after Nat and Wanda who are running after Y/N.

--------

Three days and he was starting to lose his mind. He sat through the demo meeting, thinking about her. Checking his phone in hopes she might have replied to the millions of texts he sent her. Nothing. Tony gave them a week to decide, to take the deal or go off to college and live normal lives. He sat on her front steps when she pulled up he jumped up.

“Peter.” She blinks surprised eyes at him.

“You’re killing me avoiding me.” He admits.

“I thought we needed space.” She shrugs.

“Why? There’s a deadline hanging over us and you want to step back?” He could feel the pain tightening in his chest.

“I just didn’t want to influence your choices.” She sighs.

“They want to take the deal. Buck and Sam are a wreck about it.” He sighs, pulling her into his arms.

“Nat and Wanda are too.” She admits into his chest.

“Stay with me tonight?” He looks down, she nods.

“I need to show you something first.” She grabs his hand pulling him into the house with her. “Don’t laugh, no comments.” She looks at him as they stand in her bedroom.

“I would never.” He smiles.

“The comment my father made to you about writing our break up song. Well you don’t get to write it, I did. But you’re going to sing it.” She nods. “Well part of it.” She swallows.

“You wrote another song?” He reaches over grabbing her hand.

“I wrote our break up song. And I sing part of it.” She nods. She hands him a few pieces of paper, lyrics and sheet music. “You should have a band practice tonight. We’ll order pizza and we can work on this, together.” She nods.

“We’re not breaking up.” He looks at her.

“Not right now. But we will.” She reaches up kissing him.

Everything Peaches 2/6/19: @xmtd5 @mo320 @courtmr   @all1e23 @izzy--lee @irepeldirt @dumblani @crist1216 @alyssaj23 @allyp1023 @joannie95 @kolakube9 @rileyloves5 @sarahp879 @sea040561 @sexyvixen7 @pcterpvrker @pigwidgexn @doctoranon @abschaffer2 @nickimarie94 @teller258316 @wandressfox @amandab-ftw @henrietteoaks @nea90sweetie @circusofchaos @itsagalaxystar @bettercallsabs @miraclesoflove @lucifersnipnips @queenkrissy11 @sadyoungadult @destiel-artemis @paintballkid711 @iwillbeinmynest @sweet-honey15 @chanelmadrid13 @mellxander1993   @spookygrantaire @geeksareunique @supernatural508 @sammysgirl1997 @itzmegaaaaaaan @booksbeforebois @mariekoukie6661 @pure-princess-97 @capsheadquaters @samanthasmileys @youclickedthislink @futuremrsb-r-main @lovemarvelousfics @petersunderoos96 @loving-life-my-way @booktvmoviefangirl @supernatural-girl97 @fanfictionjunkie1112 @abbypalmer14-blog @meganlikesfandoms @awkwardfangirl2014 @supernaturaldean67 @xqueenofthecraziesx   @queenoftheunderdark @writingaworldofmyown @supernaturallover2002 @daughterofthenight117 @sprinklesandsugarcubes @whothehellisbucky-1930 @verymuchclosetedfangirl @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @ocaptain-mycaptainmorgan @wonderlandfandomkingdom @crazy-little-thing-called-buck @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @stupendoussciencenaturepanda @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety

Peter Parker: @ml7010 @ariminiria @dkpink123 @little-smurf @boltsgirl919 @quokkatrash   @everthenerd @ms-rogers06 @crayonwriting @baebeepeach @bellamouse16 @honey-bee-holly @kiss-the-stars-goodbye

Chasing The Dream: @del-rcys @gabile18   @robin-writes @raven-black102

[damnit-samnit]

all might x fem!reader twitter thread [impreg kink][lemon]

here’s a long-ass transcript of that impreg kink twitter thread i was working on the past couple of days for you non-tweeter folks. i got you. i’ve just been copying and pasting, so be prepared for short sentences and lil errors. enjoy!

you volunteered to be a civilian that needs rescuing for a training sim at UA - a perk of dating a teacher 

the kicker? you’re cast as a distressed pregnant woman in need of rescue. you’re definitely not pregnant, but they got one of those fake bellies you can pop on

it’s a big ol belly too — you’re HEAVILY pregnant and it looks like you’re gonna pop out a kid at any second

i’d like to think after the initial shock of seeing your pregnant self, you start purposely falling face first bc you got some cushion and it’s fun! (okay, maybe not for the observers)

anyway, you’re SELLING it. you got the waddle down, you’ve got the hand on your belly as you walk... you should get an award for how well you’re playing the part

aizawa has the kids begin even though all might is late 

and, about halfway through class, the no 1 hero finally shows up

he’s off to the side observing, chatting with the kids who are waiting for their turn or have already gone

he knows you’re helping out, just not in what capacity 

until you’re, literally, dropped at the rescue zone he’s by and he finally sees you in all your pregnant glory

and ya boy is thunderstruck 

eyes immediately zero in on your big belly. he knows it’s not real but... it looks real. and it doesn’t help that you’re waddling over to him, rubbing your stomach 

you’re talking to him, aizawa’s talking to him, students are talking to him…

and he’s just staring, sweat beading at the back of his neck, smiling teeth clenched so tight that they might actually shatter

you notice he’s very... tightly wound but you can’t ask about it - everything is being reset and you’re being put back to your rescue position

he’s trying to pay attention to class and do his job but you’re making it very hard to concentrate

he’s interacted with plenty of pregnant people before but seeing YOU pregnant is something else entirely

and he can’t help but daydream that it’s HIS baby you’re pregnant with

round and fat with the baby he put there

and he knows it’s all fake and it’s all for training

but, my god, if he doesn’t want to make it a reality

knock you up with his child— 

or, better yet, children—

make you mother

and that desire just worsens every time he sees you

he knows he’s too old for kids and it’s irresponsible but the primal part of him doesn’t give a shit and just wants him to bury his cock as deep as it can get inside you and fuck you until you are, without a doubt, pregnant

meanwhile, you’re worried about how sweaty he looks

and there’s an extended break for repairs after a certain student goes ham on the course 

you’re hanging with the kids, showing them your uncomfortable face-first falling trick

then you’re by a tense all might and, joking, you place his hand on your stomach and have him rub it

the pen he was holding in his other hand shatters when he tightens his fist, whimpering 

he’s aware of how painfully constricted his suit feels, especially around his groin

not to mention he’s mortified that he’s in public dealing with these dirty thoughts and struggles

he’s a HERO and a TEACHER — he has responsibilities...

but it feels like the class is dragging on and it’s so stuffy. not to mention these repeated rescues of yours are awaking other fantasies of his where you’ve found yourself in trouble and he saves you and you ‘thank’ him

he’s daydreaming about fucking you in empty warehouses, on top of buildings, in alleyways, in his office at Might Tower, in an empty classroom

and in each scenario you’ve got your ankles up near your ears and he is just pumping load after load into you—

both of you unprotected

he hits a strange bargaining stage by then — he’s a good man, a selfless hero, can't he just have this one thing? you completely and entirely tied to him?

and he knows that you’d want a say

but what if you didn’t? 

what if you left the decision on children completely up to him?

actually, there would be no real decision—

you would be pregnant. he would make you pregnant. no matter how many times it took, by the end of the day you would be round with his children

he knows that cooler heads would think differently but he can’t think differently

when class ends, an irritated aizawa, having noticed how distressed and distracted all might was during the entire class, assumes he’s pushing his limits and orders him to just go home and rest

he’ll take care of the rest

and all might isn’t sure if he’s relieved or horrified

you know something is up with all might - he’s all sorts of wound up, but at hearing aizawa’s orders you start to believe that his current state is because he’s low on time 

and you offer to hang back and leave with him now that your part is done

so while aizawa and the students head back to the locker rooms...

you linger back with all might

and he tries to be good, honest. but you catch him staring and you smile at him and you’re pregnant and glowing and it’s his and shit—

next thing you know, you’re being picked up

he tells himself he just wants to sneak a kiss from you, ignoring the way his blood is roaring through his veins

just a kiss

if it was just a kiss though, why is he moving you both to an empty building on the cityscape, sheltering you both away from any possible voyeurs?

all might is groaning against your lips as his presses his mouth on yours, one hand firmly on your ass, the other in your hair

the fact that your faux belly is the way, sandwiched between you, is making his knees weak

that’s when you realized WHY he was so sweaty

you’re trying to calm him down but there’s no use — back against the wall, you try to reason with him between heavy breaths

but it feels like the man is barely breathing. he’s sharing them with you, not bothering to pull his mouth away, keeping it open-mouthed on top of yours

you’re reminding him you’re at SCHOOL. behave! what if someone comes by? what if there are cameras trained on you? honestly, you don’t think all might would survive a reprimanding from nedzu if it was over having personal... relations while on campus. you’d probably be banned!

and all might knows that he should be good, that he should listen because it all makes sense...

you’re already in his hands, though. already straddling his torso. and gingerly, as if he can’t quite believe it himself, he lowers you just a bit so your crotch is flush against his

although he’s wearing a cup in his suit, you can tell that it's being lifted slightly, dick straining against the plastic containing it

and he’s grinding against you, relieved to finally have friction but frustrated that it’s nowhere near ENOUGH

somehow, someway, he’s swept you up in his haze. and your mind is whispering to you that’s is alright, you’re adults, what’s wrong with a rare quickie? no one would get hurt...

well, maybe it was a little... lowbrow

but you were only human

your hands pass across his chest, thumb brushing against his nipple

he licks his lips

you suggest that, maybe, you should move a little deeper into the building? away from the windows?

and he listens, fingers pressed tightly against your body as he searches for a nook

there’s some closet... thing filled with busted hubcaps that blessedly has a door

once inside, there’s a flurry of clothes being discarded—

by all might, at least. when you go to undress with him, he stops you 

“I’ll do it,” he growls, bare-chested and tense, reaching for you

he doesn’t — he stops rolling his suit down when it hits his waist and, instead of helping you shed your clothing, he’s hoisting you back up to straddle his chest, hungry mouth returning to yours

only after you break away for air does his hands, which have been mauling your ass, move up to tug at the waistband of your pants

when you go to help he stops you, repeatedly murmuring “let me” against your cheek as he wraps one arm around you while the other tugs off your pants

and then he’s kissing you *again* and you’re torn between appreciating all his affections and being frustrated that apparently he’s taking his time when, looking at the situation at hand, he probably shouldn’t

that’s when he drops to his knees, bringing you down with him

you’re basically a doll in his massive hands — he holds you up with such ease as he adjusts and further falls to his back and that’s when you know what he’s doing, what he has planned

carefully, he sits you on his face

the sight…

oh the sight is beautiful

he has to be careful that he doesn’t squeeze you too hard but everything about him is wound up and he knows his fingers are going to leave bruises against your thighs but he can’t help himself

because when he looks up, as his tongue and lips work their magic, all he can see is the swell of your stomach and your face peeking out from behind it, flushed and open-mouthed, and your hair is sticking to your forehead and you're making such sweet sounds

and you're divine

one of all might's THIGHS is about the size of your torso - everything about him is large and in charge and that extends to his tongue as well

it finally wriggles and buries inside you entirely, pushing through clenching walls with ease

and you're pulling your own hair

the man is kind, attentive and doting-

and that dooms you 

because he wants to make sure, above all else, that you're absolutely, positively, utterly left satisfied

and his mouth and fingers are finding, pressing and stroking all the spots that turn you into jelly

and you tumble over the edge

repeatedly

and each time, after the bucking and squeezing abates, you try and pull away, begging all might through clenched teeth and breathless whispers that he needs to calm down and give you a break, that it's all TOO much and you can't take it

but he won't stop. watching you squirm because of him, hearing you sing out his name, knowing you're helpless in his grasp...

he's a selfish man

he loves when you're at his mercy

and that you willingly (happily!) give yourself to him time after time after time

he laps at your release each time it flows, strong fingers making dents in the fat of your thighs every time your quaking body tries to get away

for a moment he wishes that you neither of you had to leave this strange closet filled with dented hubcaps and other collected debris

but he catches himself before his brain segues into more melancholic thoughts and he forces his mouth away from your slick entrance 

you’re relieved, closing your eyes as the muscles in your legs randomly fire off, taking the opportunity to catch your breath

and all might is decorating your inner thighs with soft and open-mouthed kisses, patting and cupping your backside approvingly

you notice then his hand moving, slithering from your ass to your legitimately plush stomach—

where he starts to rub gentle circles

even though the stomach is HUGE and juts out extensively from your body, it still feels so small and frail in his palm

and the intonement that he did this to you, he knocked you up, repeats in his head

the huff he releases barely disguises the whine that bubbles from his throat

a finger presses and slides back into you

you start to prepare yourself for more of his worshipping but he’s not subjecting you to more oral affections

he’s testing the slickness

although you’re soaked and his crotch is uncomfortably damp thanks to the steady weeping of his still-strangled cock, he’s not sure if it’s enough

he’s a well-endowed man and there are some shortfalls because of that — namely, lube is a requirement for your couplings

he doesn’t just... carry it around, though

and he’s trying to think on the fly of ways this could work, what he could do to save this moment

and an absolutely vulgar idea enters his mind

a blush stains his face and neck while his cock twitches approvingly

you’re both moving again — you’re on your back and all might is on his knees, rolling his costume further down 

relief washes over his body when his cock is finally freed, throbbing and angry red at having been left to suffocate for so long

he hooks his arms under your knees

you’re being dragged and tilted up toward him, backside pressing against his lap

and after a few indulgent strokes, he lines his dick up with your entrance—

but he doesn’t push in

instead he dips the head of his member into you, sliding it up and down against your folds

eventually starts to pump his shaft, tight fist moving in tandem with the slight rocking of his hips

but when the head of his cock escapes from your lips, he doesn’t pop it back into place

he releases himself to grind against you, watching as his cock seesaws and parts your sex

he picks up speed, enchanted by how your body ripples each time the top of his thighs slap against your ass, which only makes him grunt and move faster

you’re torn between being incredibly turned on by the sight and feel of him rubbing his length against you—

and wanting more

you’re trying to tilt your hips to catch and guide him inside to fill and satisfy the noticeable empty

and he wants to

god you have no idea how badly

then you’re being dragged up higher so he can better press against you, your lower back complaining when he ruts against you harder

his normally upright bangs are beginning to droop, award-winning smile is gone entirely 

he’s huffing and puffing, grimacing and grunting

haphazardly he transitions from grinding back to his original position — tip of his dick poised like he’s about to enter you, rough hand pumping his shaft wildly

you can tell he’s close when tightly clenched teeth finally part and loud, harsh breaths break free

he's whispering "shit" hoarsely under his breath, brows knitting together and you can hear the squelching of his cock in his hand

pretty soon you're goading him on, "that's it baby", "look at you", "come on babe, come for me"

how can he hold back after hearing that?

with a grunt he erupts in his hand and you feel his load coat your sex

even though there's static in his head at having flipped to the orgasm channel, with an odd amount of lucidity he's careful where his come lands and where it collects and pools against you

seconds later picture is cutting through the fuzz, the world returning to him

and he takes a few seconds to collect himself, waiting for the minor numbness to pass, staring at the mess he made-

*purposely* made

heavy fingers are dipping into the come, collecting globs of it and he catches your curious eyes

is he... playing with it?

he's not. 

fascinated, you watch as he smears it against his cock, which is still mostly erect. and then he's scooping up more and rubbing it against himself and spreading it across you

and it's dirty and vulgar that he's planning on fucking a "pregnant" woman in a closet at ground beta using his own come as lube because you deserve SO much better 

but at the same time, the obscenity of the situation has him horribly aroused

judging from the expression on your face and how blown-out your pupils are, you're not the least bit put off by what he was reduced to 

ego pats him on the back when he strokes his once-again hard prick, proud of the fact that he, all might, can go for *rounds*

"look how lovely you look," he coos, petting your still-elevated calves and thighs and then his hands are on either side of your cum-soaked entrance, pulling you apart so he can catch another glimpse of the sweet pink that's waiting for him "look how ready you are for me"

under normal circumstances you would be happily eating up all his reverence but this was neither the time nor the place and, sensing you'd have to be the voice of reason, you reach up and lightly grab at his wrists

"please don't make me wait, toshi"

dearest, how can he deny you when you ask him like that?

as he presses into you, he's mumbling to you again about how beautiful you are and how good you are to him and how perfect you are

you try to coax your body to relax as a familiar stretching sensation starts up and he's doing the same 

"good girl, that's it, you take me so nicely sweet one, almost"

and someone your size should not be subjected to a man like him but goddamn if you don't love it

he doesn’t really ‘bottom out’ on purpose for you to recognize, he’s thrusting in and out of you, slowly, not wanting to push you too far too fast

though sometimes with you it seems that he’s never moving fast enough

and that’s dangerous

cutting through careful focus is your breathy voice asking for more, demanding more, pleading for more

and that’s when it starts, your continuous desire for MORE because nothing ever seems enough when you’re with him

and his earlier rutting has left you on the edge and it’s far too soon but you’re already asking him to go harder, go faster, go deeper

meanwhile he’s trying not to get too caught up in how tight you feel, how perfectly you mold around him coupled with your warmth and softness

he’s shushing you, desperately trying to play the gentleman, trying to stay the hero, but that animal inside is awake again and its eyes are back on that belly of yours and how good you look and—

shit shit shit shit shit

all might suddenly pushes himself against you, still balancing on his knees but otherwise falling overtop of you

you’re being bent more than you should be

a tense forearm is beside of your head

a stinging hand is gripping your waist

by that point he’s stuffing the entirety of his cock inside you with each thrust, hefty balls slapping your ass with enough force that it feels like another hand is there, spanking you 

with each completed motion your toes curl and back arches

“gonna make you a mother”

exclamation points spring up in your head at hearing him growl that, wide-eyes meeting his

he's so.... focused

he's panting, sweat starting to bead along his hairline and down his forehead, blue eyes *burning* into you

there's something very frightening about seeing him like this - feral, almost. if someone walked in on you, right now, would all might squirm away in embarrassment at being caught?

or snap at them to go away?

you feel something twinge within you: heart? gut? loins? soul?

*why are you so excited?*

the hand at your hip lets go and you didn't realize how tightly he had been squeezing until your body sings with relief

but the thudding, dull pain is vibrating right to your cunt

it makes sense then too, why he kept your shirt on. normally he was adamant about seeing every inch of you-

but he didn't want to ruin the illusion 

of you being pregnant

later you'll have to reflect on whether this was a fetish of his or an actual desire

not now, though

when he places his hand on your stomach, it's comparatively nicer than before, gentler

he really is getting into the spirit of things

"look at you," he groans. "look at how round you are."

wonderfully round. perfectly plump. with part of him growing in you. his child that you'll have to dote on. raise. the perfect little mommy

and he shudders and you gasp at a particularly rough thrust and he knows he has to be pressing against your womb

"gonna keep you pregnant forever," he says, punctuating his declaration with another rough thrust, reveling in the way you sing his name

and he's deadly serious, hoarsely telling you in what ways and how many times a day he's going to fuck you to keep you filled with him

he'll have to leave school early, stop home during lunch and between classes, bending you over every surface of your apartment

no that's not true - he's going to have you on your back, just like this, so that every drop of his come safely collects in the deepest parts of you

soon he'll have to go and buy a big estate somewhere where you both will live happily with your perfect children

and there will be photoshoot after photoshoot released to the public of all might standing beside his eternally pregnant wife, both of your arms filled with his kids

this isn't the all might you know. the gentle giant who still blushes whenever you reach to hold his hand, who leans into every bit of affection you give him, who's 'surprised' you with flowers enough that they've become a regular occurrence

but damn if you didn't love it

he wants to see your breasts but he doesn't want to catch sight of the stitching of your fake belly-

and a cry catches in your throat when he rips at the neckline of your shirt, tearing a great gash from the top down, revealing the lacy bra you had hidden beneath

greedily he watches your contained tits as they bounce for him

then he's contorting his large body to lick and nip at the curves of your cleavage, tongue snaking down towards covered nipples

your stomach won't be the only bit of you that gets fatter after he starts to breed you

you're not surprised when you feel a sudden tug at your chest followed by a rush of cold air

he catches one nipple in his mouth, the other squeezed between unforgiving fingers as he mauls your other breast

"these will be heavy with milk soon, won't they?" he asks

you nod

it's starting to get too much for you. it feels like you're broaching your climax but you're just not reaching the summit

you can see the peak clearly but there’s just something missing

and under your breath you find yourself repeating "please" over and over again

and he's pulling his mouth away from your already sore breasts, making sure to burn the image of you like *this* in his mind forever

"you want to have my babies, don't you?" he almost snarls at you and your 'pleases' get louder as you start to just nod

and you keep nodding

"you know how easy it will be, don't you?" he asks

and abruptly he's not moving - and the please you were in the middle of whispering morphs into a deep-throated moan

he's fully embedded in you, his hips twisting from side to side

"feel how deep i am?" he asks

and you're still nodding but that's not what he wants - he wants to hear you

all it takes is a jerk against you for you to cry out a clear, 'yes'

"remember," he grunts, rocking his hips but not quite thrusting, "it'll only take one time. one time and i'll have a baby in you."

because he's all might. he is vitality personified. perfection humanized. one burst of his come in an unprotected womb and he'll have you stuffed with triplets

and then he's thrusting again and his thumb finally, *finally* finds its way to your clit and as soon as the calloused digit skirts across it you understand what you've been missing

you're sighing and mewling, pushing harder against his assault, the stars in your head aligning

while all might wonders how many kids is too many kids: 40? 50? 

he's selfish. such a selfish man

but he's going to make sure you both are connected forever

mind, body and soul you belong to each other

and you're going to be a wonderful mother to his football team of kids

they'll be the perfect blend of you both

you come before he does - he hears it in your voice, feels the reverberations of your climax as it rocks through your body 

normally he stops when you orgasm, relishing in the way your cunt grasps and massages every inch of his cock

not now though, not today

he has a job

he's not teasing out your climax, not subjecting you to the usual loving round of overstimulation 

going full circle, the hand on your clit goes back to your hip, gripping it with enough strength that he might even bruise the bone

"dearest, i'm going to pump you full of babies," he's groaning and growling. "you'll be mine forever, won't you?"

he might break every bone in your body with the ferocity of his movements but you're too caught in that wave of pleasure-pain to care

all you feel is pressure

somehow he finds the ability to go faster and harder, babbling about how big he's going to make you, that you're going to be absolutely glowing with pregnancy by the time he's through with you

and in the back of your mind, you're wondering if you're going to walk away from this encounter knocked up, even with you on birth control

99% effective at preventing pregnancies...

did doctors ever account for all might when they were drumming up those odds?

then his muttering dies down, replaced by harsh panting as his world grows too suffocating and he's almost there, so close

shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit

he's picturing the internal scene in his head, of his endowment barreling back and forth across your channel-

the red, angry head of prick eagerly kissing your womb-

how empty it was at the moment-

and how much one of his loads would fill you

he's getting closer and closer

his tempo is falling apart

he looks desperate 

like this is something he *has* to do

because god, it's all he wants

so focused are you on the show, on the sensations of him, that you can't gather enough presence of mind to sigh your praises to help tip him over the edge

you don't need to

"i'm gonna," he starts up before the warning falls apart with a hiss

and he tries to warn you again but that falls apart too

he pushes his body back up so that he's kneeling again

he's holding you by the waist

watching as he fucks you

"fuck," he whines. "fuck, darling, fuck. i can't. i have to-"

what he's saying doesn't make sense. he can't what? he has to what?

the statement is just nonsense falling from his mouth

then the ability to talk leaves him

thankfully, *thankfully*, there is a portion of his mind that remains cognizant when the sun behind his eyes explodes and the volcano in his groin finally erupts with force

that awareness is what keeps him from breaking your hips when he snaps forward with a breathless roar

and he's doing it, he's filling you, coming, seemingly pumping every bit of seed he has in his body directly into your womb

briefly, he throws his head back as his body convulses with each wave that radiates from his gut

all you can feel is warmth drowning your core

it's only a handful of seconds but it feels longer

you're panting, watching him

he's gasping, looking like he just ran a marathon, foggily staring at the wall directly in front of him

slowly, light returns to his face

bits of his personality is coming back

haggardly his face tilts down toward you

and what a sight he finds

you on your back, stunned, red-faced and wild-haired, clothes torn, knees bent toward your chest

he's still inside you, the overflow of his load oozing out from between your joining

all might swallows and, ignoring the jittering of his body, he starts to pull out

carefully he's setting your lower body back on the concrete floor as he falls back to sit on his ass

and your little room, your 'closet' crowded with your hubcap audience, is silent while the two of you try and collect yourselves

you throw an arm over your face as you continue to lay on the ground

all might is just breathing

slowly but surely, both your heart rates start to settle down

in the distance, an explosion rings out and the building you're in rattles

right.

right. you're still at ground beta.

when you remove your arm and look up, you catch all might staring

and you know him well enough to sense what he's thinking about, the dread that he must be drowning in as he reflects on not just his actions but the things he implied and said in the moment

like informing you that you're going to be the mother of his children

and his wife

you cough to clear your throat

when you sit up, you blink rapidly, trying to rid yourself of the strong lightheadedness you feel

and then, you're looking at him again

"so you like the fake stomach?" you hoarsely tease, revealing a large grin as you pat the stuffed belly

all might's entire body goes red

and he's crawling over to you, trying to stutter out so many thoughts at once that nothing is cohesive

he's absolutely distraught as he tries to smooth out your hair and eventually his first coherent statement breaks through-

i'm sorry.

and that's all he can sputter out, face contorted with shame and worry, even when you start to rock with laughter

you grab his face, pulling him down to you, covering every inch of it with kisses, and you cooing to him that it's alright, he has nothing to apologize for, it was wonderful, he was amazing, he was good, you liked it

"i didn't know you were so eager to be a father, mister yagi," you tease, eyes flashing with delight

and all might is certain he's going to combust

another explosion, closer, prevents all might from spouting out more incoherent thoughts at you

you two are no longer the only ones in the cityscape

with all might's help you uneasily stand, watching as the number one hero quickly moves to change back into his hero costume

with nothing to clean yourself up with, you're going to have quite the wet spot in your pants when you pull them back on

not only that, the good hero also broke your bra and ripped open a good portion of your shirt

when you point out your predicament to the hero, he flounders

mind working overtime, he cooks up a bumbling plan to protect you —he'll rocket both of you off campus before anyone sees. he'll take you straight home—

"you know," you say, interrupting him, relaxed and patting your stomach. "i'm supposed to return the belly to the school..."

you're grinning when you look back up at him, catching a slackened all might staring at your hand. upon realizing he had been caught starting AGAIN, he falls into a panic until-

"i think i'm going to keep it," you declare

all might freezes

and...

god

you really are perfect.

[xpwewarchive]

XPWEW Xtreme Rumble 2020 (4-26-2020)

XPWEW Xtreme Rumble 2020 April 26th 2020 Denver, Colorado Denver Coliseum

SHOW OPENS WITH PYROTECHNICS

We are introduced to tonight’s commentary team of Kaitlyn Khaos and Nick Simmonds and they run down the card and explain the importance that is the Xtreme Rumble match and it gives the winner a golden ticket to be in the main event of the biggest event in XPWEW history: Lockdown 7 on May 23rd, 2020 in the platinum shimmering city of Dubai on the waterfront now let’s kick it over to James Westerbeck at ringside bell rings

James Westerbeck: The following contest is a TABLES MATCH! The rules of this contest are You must put you opponent through a table!

Joe Gacy enters holding both tag team titles (Commentary explains how this match came to be, When Solomon Nasty appeared plucked from nowhere and wanted to be Joe Gacy’s tag team champion partner despite not impressing Gacy for the last month on Friday Night Pyro and now the ultimate challenge awaits Soloman, Gacy’s favorite matchup. A tables match.

Solomon Nasty enters

Tables Match 1 on 1 M1: Joe Gacy defeats Solomon Nasty

General Manager Romeo Roselli enters and walks down to ringside turns the corner and walks up to the timekeeper and grabs both Tag Team Titles. Gacy looks perplexed and a bit heated.

Romeo Roselli: Joe it’s been 30 days since Brodie Croyle was injured and you were asked at my discretion I’ll admit, you were unable to find a tag team partner so I am going to be stripping you of the XPWEW Tag Team Championships! (Crowd yells)

Gacy: Why.....Why...Where are the articles of confederation when you need them (shuffling trying to grab the belts tucked in Romeo’s left arm)

Romeo: But Joe I’m not leaving you in the dark. As successful and Plagueground was for the past 6 months that era must come to an end, pending injury and inability to find a replacement but Joe. I’m a fair GM. You are in line for these belts, That’s right Joe I’m making you the Number One Contender! BUT I took the liberty upon myself to find you a replacement because since YOU can’t seem to do that. I did it for you. So meet your new tag team partner

Audrey Carbine enters

((Joe Gacy blows the hair out of his face kinda groaning at the thought of Audrey being his new tag team partner))

((Joe Gacy jerks the mic out of Romeo’s hand))

Joe Gacy: THIS? She’s a woman, She’s weak, She’s vulnerable and to me, a wrestler who has applied his craft all over the world!! This is an insult To me and No, No I will

((Audrey Carbine power walks right up to Gacy’s face))

Audrey Carbine: “Shut up Pussy” (crowd ooohs))

Audrey Carbine: “I was a highly ranked official in the American Army for 8 years and I served four tours in iRaq while you sat on your ass playing Modern Warfare (crowd oohs again) I’m not too excited on being your partner myself but I’ve been itching for a fight since I got here and you’ve just been itching for relevancy Joe admit it (crowd oohs) The Tag Team division in xpwew is weak and that’s one trait that I’m not. So you’re either gonna hate me or you’re gonna tolerate me but together we’re gonna be The Death Machines

Joe Gacy: “Audrey, you .....I gotta singles career to focus tonight in the Xtreme Rumble” (crowd reacts mixed)

Backstage Segment: Troy Clausen standing with two unnamed women (just pretty faces to spin the tumbler) Troy Clausen: Ladies tonight my son Champagne Clausen is going to be entering at the number 29 right? Lol yeah we’ll See I hired this other guy named (gibberish)

The Set walks in (Myron, Kotto and Jordan) Jordan: “Woahhh T-Roy Clausen Whatup Dogg Troy: “Vibin’ pimps, Vibin’” Jordan: Myron? Myron: Yessir! Jordan: Tonight is one of them special nights you know cause look at the probability Me, You, Kotto, Ruckus we got 4 chances of winning this whole shit and turning Lockdown to SetDown Kotto: Aha! I mean how they gon’ act when young Kotto Brazil pull up and win the rumble you feel me, I see the hate tho I love it love (The Set all joking around) Jordan:

(((Jacques Dudley waltzes in and just goes straight to picking his number and before he’s about to leave))) Jordan: Oh look who it is, Croissant Dudley LOL you grabbing another number for D-Von (The Set snickering) Jacques: Hmm Nice joke Ellen, You giving away a car next? Jordan: Man Shut your punk ass up before I slap you around in that ring tonight Busta ((Myron and Kotto react to their numbers with a “Meh so so” reaction)) Myron and Kotto: What you got J? What you got? Jordan: ((((I don’t know,,,Nah nah nah Jacques you trade me?)))) Jacques: ppfft trades numbers (((Both open at the same time)) Jacques reacts “WOW Thanks Jordan, see ya out there Jordan: (under his breath: Pfft Fuck outta my face) Myron and Kotto looking over his shoulder Jordan opens up his number ((Myron and Kotto start looking at each other )))( Jordan: Maaaaan this whole shit whack man what damn number he then then? Man shit The Set walks away Tumbler Girl #1: Wow what number did he get? Troy: 4 Tumbler Girl #2: How do you know? Troy: Magic

Jacques Dudley enters

Jordan Oliver enters with Siaka Lexoni

XPWEW Juniorweight Championship 1 on 1 M2: Jordan Oliver def. Jacques Dudley

After one hellacious closing back and forth of reversals Jordan turning Jacquesms spinwill armdrag into a tombstone piledriver for the 1-2-3 and Jordan Oliver is still the xpwew Juniorweight champion

Backstage Segment:

Garrett Thompson and Ethan Bedlam are in their reading their numbers and Slayer walks in with Rosemary and Lotus

Troy: Not gonna speak Slayer Slayer: looks at Troy and leaves

Leonard McGraw enters bumping Slayer’s shoulder intentionally Leonard: Is something funny? Garrett: Yeah as a matter of fact it is, Look at you walking in here lookin bloody ridiculous with that stupid hat Leonard: You don’t like my hat? Garrett: Well quite frankly Leo its a bit worn out it looks like a damn travesty, What is that a fish hook? You are one putrid Longfellow Leonard: I like to fish. I like to hunt. I like Wayne Newton. Is that a problem? Garrett: I don’t care what you do in your spare time living in a trailer park Leonard: Garrett Thompson you big sum bitch. I said I like to hunt. I don’t play games. You are game. You, Ethan Bustass over there you’re game. Y’all some bucks to me. 10 pointer and he’s bout a 4 pointer. I’m looking for ya out there in the rumble and I’m taking your sorry ass out of misery because it’s open season on the xpwew locker room and I’m fixing to cook something to eat. Now Garrett what’s so funny....... Leonard and Garrett lock eyes ((Garrett walks away)) ((Leonard McGraw grabs a number and winks at the tumbler girls) Leonard: Now What the fuck we got going on, Are any good numbers left Stretch? Troy: Gotta be something Leonard Leonard: Ah shit ima just dig down in the bottom and grab two of these here and let you pretty ladies pick one of em’ which one darling? ((Tumbler Girl #2 picks the left)) Leonard: “Oh sweet Jesus this better be a good one. If it’s bout 25 I’ll kiss ya on the lips let me see ((Opens number) Leonard: Fuck! Godamnit to hell. (Leonard locks the number back up and throws it back in the tumbler) (Leonard storms off) Troy looks pissed he ruined the sanctity of this rumble

Brutus The Barber Beefcake enters with a staff worker pushing the chair and barber shop utensils down to ringside

James Westerbeck: The following contest is for the xpwew women’s championship and it will be contested in a Hair Match The winner of this match will shave the loser’s hair bald

Prisiclla Kelly enters

Kiera Hogan with Brian Lee enters

XPWEW World Women’s Championship Hair vs Hair 1 on 1 M3: Prisiclla Kelly defeats Kiera Hogan

AND NEW!!!!! Xpwew Women’s Champion Prisiclla Kelly!

After the match Brian Lee tries to grab Kiera and escape but Priscilla is able to rub him down and grab the kendo stick used against her earlier in the match and whack Brian Lee at the knees then repeatedly whack him across the back until he pleas up the ramp

Brutus The Barber Beefcake secures Kiera Hogan at ringside who’s kicking and screaming to squirm her way out of this Prisiclla taunts with Brutus’ shears and then cuts a huge chunk of Kiera’s weave The Prisiclla takes her time cutting big chunks with small scissors for a while (((Is Kiera Hogan crying?))) Prisiclla then takes the heavy duty hair clippers and does a streak down the middle of Kiera’s head and we now see scalp of the former women’s champ ((Kiera screaming)) Prisiclla then quickly keeps going over and over until Kiera is left bald

Priscilla grabs her title and laughs up the ramp

Brutus let’s Kiera go Kiera is sobbing uncontrollably and doing a fit at ringside and during her rage she grabs a hold of Nick Simmonds shirt and says “This is your fa-ha ha ha hault”

Ad: Golden Bryce BANG Energy

Ad: Lockdown 7 is 27 days away

We swing it back to commentary and Kaitlyn Khaos reviews what we’ve seen tonight from Joe Gacy being stripped of the tag team titles and Audrey Carbine being appointed by GM Romeo Roselli as his new partner then we seen Jordan Oliver and Jacques Dudley tear the house down and we just witness Kiera Hogan being humiliated by Prisiclla Kelly as she lost her title then was shaved BALD and coming up next to world heavyweight champion Golden Bryce just has one more hurdle to cross and he will be going into Lockdown for the 2nd year in a row as world champion

VIDEO PACKAGE : All Man vs Golden Bryce feud history

All Man with All Woman enters

Golden Bryce enters

XPWEW World Heavyweight Championship 1 on 1 M4: Golden Bryce (c) defeats All Man w/ All Woman

((All Man put up a fight and didn’t come across as weak as he did during their Flirting With Disaster PPV match last February the match ended when All Man had to match in his favor but when on the to rope looking for a Super-Plex he hyperextended his leg and landed on the ropes completely falling crotch first between the ropes (he oddly backed himself up to about the middle). All Man stood straddling the ropes with his crotch there long enough for Bryce to regain composure jump off the top rope and hit a very very awkward crooked version of the 6 rings. All Man gets untangled in the ropes and Bryce gets up yanks him out the ropes and pins him 1-2-3 Odd finish, Unique finish but the crowd really was expecting a kick out so the response was delayed. Just a weird match

AND STILL XPWEW WORLD CHAMPION: GOLDEN BRYCE

M5: Ruckus wins XPWEW 2020 Xtreme Rumble Match